


Never Give Up, Never Give In

by LadyWallace



Series: Never Give Up [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Caring Dean, Caring Sam, Cas & Dean friendship, Cas & Sam friendship, Cas and Dean work out their differences, Episode: s08e17 Goodbye Stranger, Evil Naomi, Gen, Hurt Castiel, Metatron is a douchbag, Nightmares/Flashbacks, PTSD, Sam is sick from the Trials, Season 8 AUs, Slash Free, cas at the bunker, controlling Naomi, lots of Cas whump, lots of canon divergence, some Sam and Dean whump too, the Winchesters care for Cas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-05
Updated: 2017-08-06
Packaged: 2018-12-11 15:26:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 38,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11717181
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyWallace/pseuds/LadyWallace
Summary: In the aftermath of Cas' 're-education' at the hands of Naomi, he finds that maybe he hasn't broken her ties after all when he started having visions. Can Sam and Dean help him before it's too late, and is Naomi the only threat they have to fear? Cas Whump (and also H/C) Season 8 AU. A deeper look into what Castiel went through during "Goodbye Stranger" and after. NO SLASH





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Some dialogue in this story is taken from various episodes in Season 8

"You will kill Dean Winchester."

Those were the words it had started with. The ones Castiel had refused, the ones that led him to being strapped down and tortured or 're-educated' as they put it so elegantly. It was not the first time, though he had no recollection of the previous ones. This time, Naomi made sure he remembered. She made sure the pain stayed with him as she tried to brainwash him, drill into his head and remove everything but loyalty to them. Make clear what the consequences would be if he disobeyed. But what she didn't know was that Castiel had finally found where his true loyalties lay. And that was with his family. The only people who had ever been a real family to him. The Winchesters.

Which was why there was no way he was going to kill them for Naomi.

"I don't want to do this, Castiel, but you leave me no choice," she told him grimly as he was once again strapped down to be tortured, to be 'fixed'. He knew that was wrong. He knew she enjoyed it; having this power over him to control him. "But you will obey, and I will make you."

First it was their typical brainwashing procedure, the drilling, the pain, the strange numbness in his mind that followed, taking all the will, the free will, out of him, and then taking him to the warehouse where he was pitted against fake Dean Winchesters that looked too real, forced to kill 'him' over and over again. But he wouldn't. He refused. The fake Deans never fought back, they only ran, cowered, pleaded, and he couldn't, even though he knew they weren't real. He could not do that to a friend, a brother. Never. He could not betray Dean again.

"You will obey!" that mantra of Naomi's echoed in his head, pounding through his screams. When she found the brainwashing wouldn't work, she resorted to other measures, having the interrogators torture him, strap him down and cut him apart until he could do nothing but sob, and then put him back together and start over. It was like hell, like what Dean and Sam had suffered, and Castiel knew that well enough. He had been to hell twice; once to save Dean and once to save Sam and he knew what happened there. But this was not demons doing the torturing, this was angels, and that made it even worse.

"You will kill Dean Winchester."

And again and again, the torture, the refusals, defiance. He tried to fight but he was always outnumbered. Another angel would come and kill 'Dean' and take Castiel away for more 'education'. The worst part was that he could hear the Winchesters praying to him, calling him, wondering where he was and he could not answer because Naomi would not allow it.

Then came the day he realized they were breaking him. He didn't know how he realized it; it just happened that he could hardly force the energy to fight anymore. Too many days of torture, too much pain, his voice hoarse from screaming, and then Naomi, realizing his weakened state, was in his head again, manipulating, digging deeper and, barely himself, he was forced into the warehouse and pitted against a fake Dean, and before he knew what was happening, Castiel had driven his blade through his chest. He stared at the limp body on the ground, the familiar green eyes staring up in shock and betrayal and he gasped, feeling as if a hold on him was taken away and he fell to his knees. He thought if he had been human he would have vomited. The guards drew him to his feet and took him back to his cell. Naomi came to him and smiled.

"You did well, Castiel. Practice and you will get better."

That night he couldn't stop sobbing.

~~~~~~~

It just went on from there. More conditioning, more killing Dean, and he was finally allowed to go back to earth, only to kill poor Samandriel who had never done anything and the young angel had already suffered so much at Crowley's hands. He couldn't face Sam and Dean after, and decided to defy Naomi again which only resulted in more torture, and she drove him until he was too weak to fight and made him practice killing Dean again until it was almost gut reaction and he couldn't make himself care anymore. Maybe that wasn't him, maybe that was her continuous messing with his head. He didn't know; all he knew was that there was now a nothingness where the pain should have been. What bothered him the most about it was whether he didn't feel anything because he didn't care, or because he had finally given up and they had broken him after all. He began to suspect it was the latter as he stared at the warehouse that was scattered with the bloody bodies of the fake Deans.

Naomi was at his side as he finished the final kill. Looking down at the fake Winchester at his feet with no emotion to spare.

"Everything is back in order," she said, sounding pleased, relieved even. "You're ready." And then she sent him back to earth to fulfill his mission.

They had to find the angel tablet, his job was to deliver it to Naomi, but there was more to the mission. He just didn't allow himself to think of it. But he felt sick every time he looked at Dean, hoping that maybe he would be able to do it without having to kill him.

He had done so many things he regretted already, so many things he knew the Winchesters would never be able to forgive him for. If he killed Dean, one of the only real friends he had ever had, he knew it would be the end of him, and surely, if he did, Sam would kill him anyway—Castiel found that a strange comfort. If he was not to be himself, he at least wanted it to be over. Maybe if he gave the tablet to Naomi when he found it, she would let him go, then he wouldn't have to kill Dean.

And that had led to him and Dean going into the crypt and looking for the tablet. He tried to force Naomi out of his head as she was instructing him, but she was too persistent, her work on him had been too effective this time; he was having a harder time fighting it than usual.

Then Dean had taken the tablet from the box, and Castiel tried one last desperate maneuver.

"Give me the tablet, Dean," he said quietly.

The elder Winchester stared at him for a second, then backed away slightly, seeming to see something in Castiel that he didn't like. Castiel's stomach plummeted; even Dean did not trust him any more. Wise, but painful.

"Kill him and take the tablet, Castiel," Naomi ordered in his head.

"Dean, give me the tablet, I must keep it safe."

"It's going to Kevin," Dean told him, stepping back again.

"I'll take it to him."

"What are you waiting for, kill him!"

Castiel shook his head, trying to keep his hands still. "Give it to me, Dean." Please just for once, Dean, just listen! he begged silently. But even then, it hurt that Dean obviously didn't trust him.

"Kill him, Castiel!" Naomi snarled.

The angel blade slid from Castiel's sleeve and Dean eyed him warily. "Cas, I don't know what the hell is wrong with you, but if you're in there, and you can hear me, you don't have to do this."

He struck him. And what was worse, it felt natural. He had done it a thousand times before. But even then, he knew it hadn't been real, so he hadn't panicked. Now he could feel his very being revolting, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. Naomi seemed to be controlling him.

Dean caught the first blow on the angel tablet. Castiel tried to stop before he did something worse.

"I won't hurt Dean!" he told Naomi.

"Yes, you will. You are."

He struck at Dean again, but the hunter dodged, telling him to fight it. So maybe he still believed in him after all. That gave Castiel strength, but it did no good, because he still couldn't stop. He panicked, floundered.

"What have you done to me, Naomi?" he demanded.

"I fixed you," she told him.

Her hold was too strong. He could barley keep a hold on his own mind anymore, even though he was aware of what he was doing. Dean swung the tablet at him, but he caught his wrist, broke it, like he had practiced, and kept swinging, until blood, Dean's blood, spattered onto the floor and his clothes.

"Please," he begged Naomi.

"End this, Castiel."

"Cas," Dean cried. "This isn't you!"

Please.

"Cas!" Dean cried hoarsely as he hit him again. "I know you're in there; I know you can hear me." He stopped. Dean's hand was held out in front of him, trying to keep him at bay, or maybe in supplication. "We're family, Cas," Dean choked out. "We need you. I need you."

And he broke. Truly, this time. Even after everything he did, though he had been sure Dean would never trust him again, he still thought of Castiel as family.

"You have to choose," Naomi told him. "Us or them."

We're family.

He dropped his blade, his mind clear again. Dean crumpled at his feet, and Castiel saw how far he had gone and it made him sick. Sick to think of what he had almost done to his friend—his brother—who had taken him in and even after everything still called him family.

And then something else caught his eye—the tablet. He picked it up, and the instant he did, the tablet glowing as it came in contact with him, his mind felt clear, clearer than it had in a very long time. He breathed a gasp of relief, no longer able to feel Naomi inside his head.

He turned back to Dean, who was kneeling broken and bloody in front of him. His stomach twisted to see what he had done with his own hands, and he reached out, somewhat hesitantly. It hurt to see Dean cower from him, the fear in his eyes, as Castiel put his hand on the side of his face and healed him.

"I'm so sorry, Dean," he whispered.

"What the hell was that?" Dean demanded, visibly shaken.

Castiel didn't know what to say, how to explain everything; not at that moment. So he gave a poor excuse and fled because he couldn't face the Winchesters anymore after what he had done. And he also ran in the hope his troubles wouldn't find the Winchesters again. Not this time. If he could do nothing else, he at least vowed he could protect them as he always had endeavored to do. Especially with Sam down for the count with the trials. He knew Dean didn't need more worries on his plate.

Right now, he knew first and foremost he needed to protect the tablet from Naomi. If she had gone to this much trouble to get it, it could only mean that she shouldn't be in charge of it. Besides, it had broken his contact with her, and he thought it was shielding him from the other angels as well, so he was not about to let it go. In fact, in a stroke of desperation, he hid it in a place he hoped no one would ever find it; the only place it would truly be safe: In the body of his vessel.

It wasn't pleasant by any means, he had to cut himself open and shove the tablet in behind his ribs, but it was better because he couldn't lose it now, and he wouldn't risk letting go of it and allowing Naomi back into his head. Once again, he was back on the run.

And then, despite his best efforts, he had somehow been found again though he had tried everything he could not to be, but Naomi's men had caught up with him, doing the one thing that would draw him out—killing innocents.

He would never forget the pleading of the woman they had left alive, pleading for him to stop. He tried to ease her pain, but in that moment of emotional insecurity, the others finally caught him and he was trapped with an angel blade to his throat.

Predictably, they roughed him up, and soon Naomi was there, a cold, satisfied gleam in her eye that was not befitting to an angel as she saw him in the grasp of her guards looking worse-for-wear.

"You're the spanner in the works, Castiel," she told him viciously. "You have never done anything right."

"How many times?" Cas asked, meeting her cold gaze with his own steely one. "How many times have you torn into my head and washed it clean?"

She sneered at him. "Frankly, too damn many."

She wanted the angel tablet, and all the time, Castiel could feel it weighing inside his stomach, fearing they would be able to sense it, and hoping he wouldn't give anything away. He would never give it up, not after everything, all the problems it had already caused. He had realized that the tablet was not meant for the angels. It should never have come to light again. He would die before he put it into Naomi's hands—and it looked more and more like he might have to. It would be just as bad as if the demons got it.

The other angels beat him around some more as Naomi watched.

"Where is the tablet, Castiel?" she asked coldly, and he could tell she was losing her patience.

"In the words of a good friend," Castiel told her firmly, leaning forward. "Bite me."

Naomi gave him a small amused smile, leaning forward as well until her face was only about a foot from his. "Oh, we'll bite. Don't worry." Then she turned back to the other angels and told one to search through the other Biggersons' to see if he had left the tablet there.

That was Castiel's only comfort; that she seemed to think he had hidden it somewhere. They couldn't sense it as he had feared they could.

"Why are you doing this, Castiel? Why must you always cause problems?" Naomi asked as she watched the other angel hit him around the face."

"I need to protect it," Castiel said quietly, licking his split lip.

"From the angels?" she asked scornfully.

"From all of us." He met her eyes before he was hit again. Naomi strode forward and grabbed a fistful of his hair, pulling his head back viciously.

"I'm just going to have to pull you apart, aren't I?"

"It won't do any good," Castiel ground out. "As you have obviously witnessed, I don't change."

"No, you don't," she said and raised a hand to hit him herself, her angel blade gleaming in her palm, when the door opened and in strode Crowley with a gun.

"Hello, Naomi, it's been a while," he said after he had shot the two other angels.

A few words were exchanged which Castiel listened to with interest, finding one of the angels, Ion, had been working with Crowley the whole time. Then Naomi left, and Crowley turned to Castiel, the pistol held casually in his hand, a bored sigh on his lips.

"Why are you here?" Castiel had to ask not sure whether to be thankful for the interruption or even more afraid.

"Don't think I came to rescue you, Cas," Crowley said. "I'm sure you know I have my own agenda." And before Castiel knew what was happening, Crowley shot him in the stomach.

"Bullets forged from angel blades," Crowley said as Castiel blinked through waves of pain, slumping on the chair. "I thought that would do the job well." Then he snapped his fingers and they were suddenly in some office with Ion standing behind Castiel, still his guard. Crowley went to sit at the desk, leaning back casually as he placed the gun in front of him.

"Just wanted a moment away from the main action to chat with my old business partner."

Castiel panted, trying to get a hold of the pain so as not to show too much weakness. Of course it wouldn't heal, not with the angel blade bullet. Blood soaked into his pants as he tried to keep his head up. Crowley tsked, nodding his head to the wound.

"I assume you won't die just yet. Takes a painful long time to bleed out from the gut."

"You can do whatever you want, Crowley. It doesn't matter anymore," he gritted out from between clenched teeth. "I'll never tell you where the tablet is."

"I know, Cas, I know," Crowley said, standing up with a contemplative sigh, steepling his fingers against his mouth as he turned to the wounded angel. "But Luckily, I don't believe you'll have to. You see, Naomi thinks that your touching the tablet broke her spell over you, which seems a plausible enough theory. But she missed something I didn't, something blatantly obvious—so like an angel. I was thinking to myself, self, if Cas got away by touching the tablet, why would he ever stop touching it?" He advanced on the angel until he was bent over him, his face only a few inches in front of Castiel's. "Because you haven't, have you?"

Castiel stared at him, trying to make his expression as unreadable as possible. Crowley smiled and then suddenly ripped Castiel's shirt open and dug his fingers into his bullet wound. Castiel screamed in shock and agony as Crowley shoved his hand into his belly and fished around until he found the tablet and then yanked it out, holding the bloody object in his hands as Castiel slumped, panting, in the chair, unable to help the whimpers that escaped his throat. He felt like he was going to pass out. Ion, almost as if he took pity on him, put a steadying hand on his shoulder, keeping him in the chair.

"There, see?" Crowley grinned. "Easy."

Then he got some phone call that Castiel could barely decipher through the pain he was going through and almost didn't realize it when Crowley left.

This was his only chance. Ion went to look out the window, thinking he was hardly a threat in his condition, and Castiel mustered what little strength he had left to push his own fingers into his torn flesh and dig the bullet out. A small gasp escaped him and he wanted nothing more than to curl up and pass out. He tried to summon his grace for healing, but it may as well not have been there it was so sluggish. He had no strength left, and even closing the wound was too much for him.

Finally, as Ion was talking about Naomi's treatment of them, how he always knew, even after he was 're-educated', how Castiel and the other soldiers were lucky because they had never known the truth, Castiel took his chance and overpowered him, breaking Naomi's hold on him with the bullet, and then he ran again, getting away as fast as he could.

He had no destination in mind, he only knew he needed to get back to Dean and Sam. He doubted they even wanted to see him again, not after what he had done to Dean, but he had no one else to turn to, and he was too hurt to run any farther. The bunker would be safe, but he had so little strength that by the time he was finally able teleport in that direction, he missed by miles and ended up lying in the middle of the road, barely conscious and his wound hurting worse than anything he had ever experienced.

Then he heard a familiar sound and tried to push himself up on his elbows as headlights blazed onto the pavement. He turned and saw exactly who he had been looking for, the Winchesters in the Impala, coming straight for him. He knew they would run him down, he tried to open his mouth to scream, but could barely muster the breath, and then there were squealing tires and he buried his head in his arms, preparing for the impact.

But it never came, instead, there was just the sound of the doors screeching open and then Dean's voice, so very welcome to his ears.

"Cas! Cas, you alright?"

Dean's footsteps pounded over to him, and the elder Winchester knelt down, a hand hesitantly on Cas' shoulder.

"A little help," Castiel managed to get out.

"Dean?" He glanced up and saw Sam standing leaning against the car for support, looking terrible, almost as bad as Castiel felt right then.

Castiel couldn't help the moan that escaped his throat as Dean pulled him up and wrapped one of his arms around his shoulders.

"It's okay, buddy, we got ya now. What happened to you? Where's all this blood coming from? Cas? Hey, Cas!"

But Castiel had had enough for the time being. Knowing he was safe with his friends, his brothers, he allowed himself to finally give in to the darkness, and just barely felt Dean grip him tightly with both arms as he slumped and then he knew nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

Dean stood watching the comatose angel worriedly, running a hand through his hair as he contemplated what could be done, and decided there really wasn't anything he could do now but wait until Cas woke up. The dude had been out of it, to say the least, and this was coming from someone who had just spent over twenty-four hours in the same space as a rambling, fevered younger brother. Dean had no idea what had happened to their angel, but he hadn't regained consciousness, not really anyway, since they had picked him up in the middle of the road where Dean had almost run him over. Cas hadn't done much but mutter some protestations when Dean had to haul him out of the car and carry him over his shoulder. It hadn't done any good for his wound, but with Sam still barely able to keep his own feet there was no other way he was going to get Cas into the bunker unless he dragged him.

It wasn't until Dean had gotten Cas onto one of the extra beds and peeled off his blood soaked clothing that he realized the extent of the wound. Dean had seen a lot of wounds, but this one looked like the angel had been mauled by an animal and seeing it in his friend's flesh made Dean sick to his stomach. There were weak flurries of dulled grace flicking around the outside of the wound but Cas' healing mojo seemed to not be working properly. Whether he was just too worn down or what, Dean wasn't sure, but he didn't think he could leave this wound fully unattended this time and set to work with sutures and antiseptic.

He had only seen Cas hurt this bad on a couple other occasions and knew he had needed to crash so that his vessel could heal, but with him down and Sam worse for wear already, Dean just felt the crush of their lives more than usual. Cas flinched as he cleaned the wound and Dean wondered if he should check for internal damage, because there must be with a wound like this, but decided that there wasn't much he could do about that anyway, and would have to let Cas do that healing for himself.

Finally he was done and cleaned up the first aid mess, washing his hands in the sink that was on the far side of the room, before going back to Cas and dragging several blankets over him. He had been told many times in indignation that angels didn't get cold, but Cas was recovering and weakened and Dean knew it couldn't hurt. He certainly didn't look like an angel at the moment. His hair was mussed more than usual, and there were dark circles under his eyes accompanied by more bruises and other minor injuries consistent with a beat down. Dean was anxious to learn where Cas had been the past few weeks, wished he hadn't run off so quickly. Yeah, okay, he still had nightmares sometimes about Cas killing him, but he knew he hadn't meant to, even if he still wasn't entirely sure what had gone on in the crypt, and Dean couldn't fault him for that when it wasn't his fault. He and Sam had done the same thing under spells. It was all part of the gig.

"Where have you been, man?" Dean muttered half to himself, half to the comatose angel on the bed. He stood watching him for a few more minutes before he decided he should go and try to get some sort of food into Sam. He gathered up Cas' discarded clothing, leaving the trench coat and tie hanging over a chair by the desk and undecided as to whether clean the rest or pitch it. Why couldn't Cas wear jeans and flannel like him and Sam?

Dean went straight to the kitchen and made tomato soup and grilled cheese and took it to Sam who was sitting in the library with a brand new stack of books, still looking shaky and flushed, but not like he was going to sleep anytime soon. Dean sighed and set the food down in front of him.

"No arguments," he said before Sam could get a word in edgewise. The younger Winchester made a half-hearted 'bitchface' but took the spoon and started eating.

"How's Cas?" he asked as Dean sat down with his own food.

"Still out," Dean told him. "I did what I could for him."

"What do you think he's been doing since he ran away with the angel tablet?" Sam asked through a mouthful, seeming to be too sick or hungry to care about talking with his mouth full.

"I don't know man, but it's the first thing I'm going to ask him when he wakes up." Dean shook his head and stirred his soup, not really very hungry. "And he doesn't have the angel tablet on him either, by the way, so I don't know what that means."

"Maybe you should hold off on the twenty questions for a while, Dean," Sam told his brother quietly. "You don't want him to think you're angry with him. You know how Cas is."

"Yeah, I know," Dean sighed, rubbing a hand over his face tiredly. "There's just so much crap, Sammy, I don't know what to do anymore."

"At least we have the third Trial," Sam said.

"And what's that going to do to you?" Dean demanded. "I mean, seriously, do you really think this is going to end well? You're already the walking dead from the last one, and curing a demon? How the hell is that accomplished?"

"I don't know, that's why I'm looking," Sam told him tiredly. "Dean, just…we already agreed that we would see this through no matter what. Just don't worry about me right now. I'm okay."

"You're not okay," Dean snorted. "You already passed out from fever today in case you don't remember."

"I'm not getting worse," Sam said firmly.

"You're not getting better either!"

"And I won't, and you know it," Sam sighed. "Just worry about Cas right now. We're probably not going to be doing anything for a while. I have no idea how we're going to find the info we need."

"Well, just don't stay up all night," Dean muttered resignedly. "Kevin's looking into it as well, you know. You don't have to push yourself."

Sam sighed but didn't argue anymore. Dean wondered if he had just given up or was too tired to bother. The elder Winchester finally turned his full attention to his meal and listened to Sam eat and turn pages, trying to mull over everything that they would need to do in the next few weeks. He honestly didn't care about the trials anymore. Not when they were making Sam so sick, not with everything else that had happened because of them. He wished every day that they had never found that bloody demon tablet.

When they finished their food, Dean dumped the stuff into the sink and gave it a quick scrub before he grabbed some books of his own and headed back to Cas' room. The angel's condition hadn't changed; he was still gone for the world, his breathing heavy and very human, not to Dean's liking at all. He checked Cas' forehead for fever and thankfully found none, but even the bruises and small abrasions on his face hadn't healed yet which meant his mojo was likely still running on empty. He took a quick look at the bandaged wound and saw that, at least, it wasn't bleeding through the gauze. Dean sighed and pulled the chair over from the desk and settled in for the night, kicking his feet up on the bed and opening one of the books that he had brought. He figured if Sam wasn't going to stop looking, he may as well help him and not prolong the agony any more than they had to. He was sick of seeing his little brother coughing his lungs up and knew that somehow it was all his fault. Sam obviously thought he had something to prove, needed some way to make up to Dean for not looking for him and Cas when they were stuck in Purgatory. Well, Dean was beyond caring about that now. They all made stupid mistakes for stupid reasons once in a while and that was no reason to throw your life away. Sam had nothing to prove to Dean, he just wished he could get him to see that.

He hadn't realized he had dozed off until he started awake to a groan. He instantly thought Sam might be having another fever episode but as he jerked upright, a book falling from his lap, he saw Cas stirring on the bed and was instantly on his feet, hurrying around to the other side of the bed to better reach the angel.

"Cas? Hey man, you good?" he asked cautiously, half afraid Cas might not be himself if he woke. But he shoved those thoughts aside, just worried about his injured friend for the moment and put a hand firmly on his shoulder, hoping not to startle him.

Cas jerked anyway but Dean shushed him and eventually the angel's eyes opened blearily and looked up at the elder Winchester.

"Hey, Cas, welcome back to the land of the living."

"D-Dean?" Cas ground out, his voice even rougher than usual.

"Got it in one," Dean told him, hurrying to grab a glass from the sink and fill it with water. He raised Cas' head slightly and put it to his lips. Cas gulped eagerly and coughed, instantly folding over his middle in pain. Dean gripped his shoulders tightly, pulling him upright as he finished coughing up the bit of water he inhaled. Dean's heart sank as he saw it was tinged slightly pink. He held Cas upright as he took several long, shuddering breaths and then offered the water again. This time Cas sipped it gingerly and cleared his throat before Dean lowered him back against the pillows. Cas' eyes closed as if he were already exhausted.

"How are you feeling?" Dean asked, wanting nothing more than to find out where Cas had been, but he decided to take Sam's advice—for now, at least—and not go too crazy on the interrogation.

Cas grunted in answer. "I will live, but this wound has taken a lot of my energy. It will take me several days to get back to my normal strength." Just speaking that long seemed to tire him out. Despite his assurances that the wound wasn't fatal, Dean was still worried.

"Who did this to you?" Dean asked him, hoping that question wasn't too out of line.

Cas swallowed hard before answering. "Crowley."

"That bastard," Dean growled. "I should have known."

"Didn't think I'd find you," Cas said quietly after a long moment. "I didn't think that you…that you and Sam would want me after…what happened."

"Hey, no way, man," Dean told him firmly. "You are not going to talk like that, you hear me? I know you weren't in your right mind, we've all been there, trust me. What's important is that you rest and heal. I did what I could for your wound, but I can't do much for the internal injuries and it's not like we can just take you to a hospital."

"You did enough, thank you," Cas told him. "I can heal the rest given the time. If you'll permit me to stay for a couple days."

"Of course, man, take all the time you need." Dean sat down on the side of the bed, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees. "Look, Cas, I don't want to push you or anything, but—where have you been the last few months? I mean, you kind of just took off; we were worried about you, man. The last thing you said was that you had people after you and then you disappeared."

Cas turned away from him, a deep sigh escaping from his nose. "I would rather not discuss that yet, Dean," he said quietly.

Dean sat there awkwardly a second before he nodded. "Okay, yeah, sure, whenever you're ready, Cas." He stood up to go back over to the chair and sat down again, bending to pick up the books he had dropped earlier.

"Dean?" Cas said as an afterthought and the elder Winchester looked up at him. "Thank you."

"No problem, Cas." Dean nodded and watched as the angel instantly fell unconscious again. He watched his friend for a few more seconds before he leaned back in the chair again with a deep sigh and re-opened the books.

~~~~~~~

The next couple days between sharing his attention between his brother and the invalid angel, Dean began to feel like a freaking nursemaid. It was all he could do to shove food into Sam's face while he was trying to research and then doing the same to Cas even though the angel insisted he didn't require human sustenance because he figured it couldn't hurt. He was about ready to knock Sam over the head if he didn't start sleeping soon, and on the flipside, he almost wished Cas would wake up for longer periods so he could get his story out of him. He knew he shouldn't press the angel, but he wanted to know what had happened to him; who was responsible for hurting his friend and messing him up so badly, so he could tear them a new one. Sure, Cas had said Crowley, but he had a feeling there was more to it than that and had the suspicion Naomi was involved. He had only met her that once and had instantly disliked her. Especially when she was trying to convince him that Cas had been 'confused' about her orders when they were fighting in the crypt. He had not been confused, he had been fighting them for everything he was worth. Well, Naomi was going to find out soon enough that no one messed with his family and lived to tell the tale. He would have thought everyone would have figured that out about the Winchesters by now, adopted or otherwise.

Finally, Dean decided to put Sam in Cas' room for a while so he could actually get out of the library and Cas could have something else to think about, maybe be able to help Sam with his research. And it would give Dean time to do a much needed provision run.

By the time he got back, he found Sam passed out on Cas' bed, his head practically resting on the angel's shoulder and snoring gently. Dean had to chuckle at the sight and Cas looked up from the book he was flipping through and gave a small smile. "He's asleep. I didn't want to wake him."

"Finally," Dean muttered, pulling a blanket from the end of the bed and draping it over his sasquatch of a little brother, giving up trying to get it to cover his whole body. He pulled the chair from the desk and sat in it, leaning it back on two legs.

"How you doing?" he asked Cas.

The angel shrugged one shoulder. "Still healing. It's a slow process."

"Should probably change the bandages," Dean told him and grabbed the kit from where it sat on the floor. Cas suffered him to clean the wound and reapply the bandages. Dean was glad to see it was healing, almost closed completely now without any signs of internal bleeding. Cas still wasn't up to getting around but he was improving.

"How's your head?" Dean asked finally, the loaded question.

"My head?" Cas asked, though Dean was pretty sure the angel knew what he had meant.

"You know, what Naomi did…" Dean shrugged, not really knowing what else to say.

Cas looked down quickly, tensing up. "The angel tablet seemed to break whatever hold she had on me. I no longer feel her presence."

Dean instantly felt bad for asking the next question, but he had to know, it was kind of important to everything. "Cas, where is the angel tablet now?"

The angel's hands clenched in his lap and it was a long time before he answered. "I—I lost it."

"Does Naomi have it?"

Cas shook his head with a deep sigh. "No. Crowley, he…took it from me." He seemed to mull something over, and then nodded slightly to himself. "I suppose it's time to tell you what really happened."

"You don't have to, Cas…"

"Yes, I do," the angel said firmly. "You need to know, and my personal feelings can wait."

Dean watched the wounded angel gather his thoughts before he began to speak. "I ran because I had no other choice. I was…horrified by what I had done to you, Dean, but I also needed to leave you and Sam, to keep you safe from Naomi. She wouldn't hesitate to kill you if you got in the way. Obviously, those were her orders for me. I tried hiding, but they caught me eventually, and Crowley was right on their heels. He had an inside man in Naomi's flock."

"And you had the angel tablet on you?" Dean asked. "You didn't hide it?"

"I did hide it, in the one place I could think of to keep it safe and keep my head clear at the same time." His eyes flicked to his wound and Dean suddenly felt queasy.

"Damn, Cas," he murmured, not knowing what else to say.

"Crowley seemed to guess what I had done. He incapacitated me with a bullet forged from an angel blade. That's one of the reasons it has taken my wound so long to heal. He left and I managed to overpower my guard and then did the only thing I could think of and headed to the bunker. I just came a little short."

"Well, we found you all the same," Dean told him, and shook his head. "Man, I don't know whether it's better that Crowley has the tablet than Naomi or not. Neither option is good."

"No, they're not," Cas said quietly. "And Naomi will not stop looking for me until I'm dead."

"She paid me a visit, you know," Dean told him.

"Naomi met with you?" Cas asked, a horrified look coming over his face.

"Yeah," Dean said with a snort. "Tried to convince me you were 'confused' about her orders. I wasn't buying it."

Cas shook his head and Dean finally leaned forward, gripping Cas' forearm tightly. "Cas, I won't let her find you, I promise."

"You don't know what she does," Cas said in a quiet voice, sounding much too broken for Dean's liking.

"Cas, it's okay."

"No it's not, Dean," Cas told him, finally turning to look at him, his eyes haunted and far away. "She was in my head, tearing out everything that made me what I am, 'fixing me' she called it. Scrubbing everything away, all the disloyalty and free will until I was nothing but a robot. You have no idea what that feels like."

Dean seethed at this information. Cas didn't need 'fixing'. There was nothing wrong with him now. Sure, they were all messed up and less than admirable people, but that's what made them human, or pseudo-human in Cas' case.

"I didn't misunderstand her orders," Cas continued after a long pause. "Do you know what she did, Dean? Every day after she had scrubbed my brain clean? She pitted me against fake images of you until killing you was gut instinct. I tried to resist, Dean, but eventually, there was no resistance left in me, she had taken that too. I'm sorry." An actual tear slid down his cheek, shocking Dean even more. He had never seen the angel cry.

"It's not your fault," he said quietly, his big brother genes kicking in as he watched his friend suffer. And he knew well enough about having all resistance taken from him. He had broken in Hell when he never thought he would have and that was without mental manipulation.

"Angels weren't meant to be machines that could be reprogrammed, Dean. We were meant to understand humans not distance ourselves from them. That was never our purpose."

Dean swallowed hard, and reached out to grip Cas' shoulder, turning him slightly so he would face him. "Look, Cas, we've all made mistakes, but I know you always did things because you thought they were for the greater good. Even when you opened Purgatory, you thought you were doing what you had to. It's part of the job, man. Crap happens and we just have to keep swinging and hope for the best. And we'll figure this out too just like we always do, but you don't have to do it alone either. Sam and I are always here to help," he cast a glance at his snoring brother. "In spirit at least."

"You're not angry with me for what I did?" Cas asked. "For not telling you what happened after I got out of Purgatory?"

"No, Cas; I know you weren't yourself. You probably didn't even know Naomi was in your head before it was too late. It's all under the bridge now anyway."

"But Dean—"

"Cas, stop," Dean told him firmly. "What happened in Purgatory is over now, long over. And the thing with Naomi—you beat her, Cas, and I'm not going to let her touch you again. And I don't have any hard feelings about you trying to kill me, Sam and I have done that a ton of times, and sometimes not even under the influence, so to speak."

"I know," Cas said. "I just feel that I can't do anything right anymore."

"Join the club, that's why you're one of us," Dean told him with a grin. "Come here." He pulled Cas forward in a quick embrace, careful of his injuries. "I told you you're family, Cas, and I meant it. Sam and I think of you as a brother and nothing is going to change that. In fact, all the mistakes you make can only solidify that. "

Cas offered a small smile. "Thank you, Dean."  
"No problem," Dean grinned and they both turned as Sam snorted and jerked upright, a sheet of notes somehow stuck to his cheek. Dean chuckled and ripped the paper away before shoving Sam back onto the mattress. "Back to sleep, little brother. You're going to need about three weeks of beauty sleep to get rid of that," he gestured to his tired eyes and bedhead. Sam shot him a halfhearted 'bitchface' but didn't seem to argue. Dean readjusted the too-small blanket and then pulled one over Cas as well before sitting back down in the chair. He kicked his boots off and propped his feet up on the bed to get comfy. He watched as his brother and angel fell asleep, and then finally closed his own eyes to join them.

 


	3. Chapter 3

_Castiel was strapped to the table again with Naomi standing over him, a tired, yet determined look in her eye. He trembled as she leaned over him, despite the fact he tried not to show his fear._

_"Always the spanner in the works, Castiel," she said with a weary sigh, raising the drill to 'repair' him, 'fix' the damage done._

_He screamed and everything went black…_

_Castiel woke in Naomi's office, sitting in one of the chairs. He was alone. He stood up and looked around, seeing the door open, inviting. He hurried toward it, running for freedom, only to have it slam shut in his face. He pounded on it, screaming for someone, anyone to let him go._

_"It's no use, Castiel, you are mine. Always. There's nothing you will ever be able to do to change that."_

_He spun around to see Naomi standing there. With a shout of rage he lunged at her, but she somehow moved away from him and he stumbled, sprawling at her feet. She kicked him onto his back and kept her foot against his chest, pressing him to the ground._

_"You will never escape me, Castiel. No one can protect you."_

~~~~~~~

Castiel shot upright with a gasp, scrambling for his angel blade, lashing out at the hands that suddenly latched onto his shoulders.

"Woah, hey, Cas, it's just me, you're alright."

Castiel took several deep breaths and shook his head to clear it, finally realizing it was Dean who was crouching beside the couch he had been laying on, gripping his shoulders tightly. Cas slumped forward, trembling, his head lowering into his hands. Dean rubbed his shoulders briskly in reassurance.

"You looked like you were having a nightmare," Dean said in concern.

Cas had been having them off and on since he had gotten to the bunker. Normally he didn't sleep, but he had taken up the human habit while recovering, and he was still sapped of energy from his healing process and being mostly cut off from heaven so he still found it necessary to take a nap on occasion. But the nightmares had started and had only gotten more vivid as time went on instead of less. It was always the same thing. Always Naomi telling him there was no way he was ever going to escape.

"You wanna talk about it?" Dean asked.

Cas shook his head. "No."

Dean sighed and let go of the angel, moving to sit on the coffee table, his elbows resting on his knees. "This is normal you know. Hell, Sam and I have enough nightmares after everything we've been through. That's all we have pretty much. Nothing to be ashamed of."

"I know," Cas said. "I'm just…frightened." He would never have admitted it to anyone but Sam or Dean, but it was the truth. These nightmares just didn't seem all that…fake to him, for want of a better term. They seemed like something else, and he didn't want to spend any time speculating on what that something else might be.

"Let me know if I can do anything to help," Dean said and stood up, patting Cas' knee. "I'm making some coffee, want some?"

"Sure," Cas said. "I'll be there in a minute." He got up shakily and headed to the bathroom to splash cold water on his face, hoping it might revive him. It worked a little bit, but all his fears came crashing back down as he looked up at his reflection in the mirror.

He dropped his towel and jerked back in shock before a closer inspection told him he hadn't been mistaken. With a trembling hand he watched in the mirror as he reached up to his right cheek and touched the dribble of blood that was falling out of his eye like a tear. He looked down and his breath caught in his throat at the red stickiness on his fingers.

A sudden sharp pain spiked through his skull and he staggered, clutching the sink for support. Flashes of his time with Naomi shot through his head and he clutched his hands to his temples, trying to force the images away. Then suddenly everything went black and he was back in the office where his dream had cut off, Naomi standing over him, her angel blade ready if he tried to make another escape.

_"You are a fool to think you can escape me, Castiel. I told you as much. You should know I wouldn't let you go that easily."_

"Cas!"

Castiel was startled awake by a crash and realized he was curled up and cowering in the corner of the bathroom, his head between his knees, a scream dying in his throat. Dean was kneeling in front of him, and Sam was hovering in the background by the broken door, a worried look on his face.

"Cas, hey, snap out of it!" Dean commanded, shaking the angel.

Castiel reached out and grabbed Dean's shirt, anchoring himself to something in the fear that he would drift away again, back to Naomi.

"Dude, what happened?" Dean asked him, trying to mask his worry.

Castiel breathed heavily for a few seconds, his hands forming fists in Dean's flannel shirt as the elder Winchester gripped his wrists.

"Cas?" Dean asked, ducking his head to look at Cas' face. "Cas, is that blood?"

Castiel finally raised his head and revealed the thin line of blood on his cheek. Dean was shocked at the raw fear in the angel's eyes. "She still has me, Dean. Somehow she still has me."

"Cas, she can't have you," Dean tried to assure him. "I'm sure this is just side effects, PTSD or something. You went through a lot, man, they were playing with your head."

"No, I know there's something more to it," Castiel insisted, trying to get to his feet. Dean stood and pulled him upright. "Dean, something is wrong with me!"

"Okay, Cas, calm down, man," Dean told him as calmly as possible, holding his hands out. He reached for a washcloth and handed it to Cas to wash his face. "Let's get you cleaned up and have something to eat.

"Dean," Sam said quietly from the doorway. "What if he's right? What if he didn't sever all of Naomi's ties? You don't have the angel tablet anymore, Cas. If that's what broke the connection maybe the fact it's been away from you so long has made your link regress back to it's original status."

"That's what I'm worried about," Castiel said grimly, still shaken from the nightmare or vision or whatever it was.

"Whatever it is, we'll figure it out, just like we always do," Dean assured them. "Until then, let's not make this more than it is."

"Dean—"

"Cas, it will be alright. This place is warded, and Sam and I aren't going to let any feathered jackasses get to you again, okay? Now whose hungry?"

Castiel followed Dean with his eyes as the elder Winchester made his way back to the kitchen. Sam caught the angel by the shoulder on the way out.

"It's okay, Cas. We'll figure it out," he said kindly.

"I'm just worried this isn't simply my imagination," Castiel told him, still trembling slightly. "Angels aren't in the habit of dreaming as such."

"It could just be your memories coming back since you still don't really remember everything that happened," Sam mused. "But if is does turn out to be more than that, we'll be ready to deal with it like we always do, just like Dean said."

Castiel nodded reluctantly. "Thank you, Sam. You and Dean…you do more for me than I truly deserve."

"Hey, you're family, Cas, that's what we do," Sam told him, squeezing his shoulder tighter. "Now come on, let's go get something to eat."

"I will help with the research, perhaps it will clear my mind," Castiel said decidedly, then stopped the younger Winchester again. "Sam, does Dean not believe that something might be wrong?"

Sam sighed. "Dean's just as scared as you are that your suspicions might be true. And you know how he is; when something scares him, he pretends it doesn't exist. But it's not because he isn't interested in helping you, you should know that."

Castiel ducked his head but didn't say anything. He wouldn't blame Dean or Sam for thinking he was just being paranoid. If he knew for certain he was, he would feel a world better. He could deal with the nightmares; it was the thought that Naomi might still have a hold on him that made him paralyzed with fear. He still didn't quite physically remember everything that she had done to him, but his subconscious did and if nothing else, the raw fear that he felt had certainly survived.

Nothing else happened the rest of the day. He sat with Sam and Dean and helped research, and he did it late into the night until he fell asleep for a few minutes before startling himself awake with the realization of what he had done. But there was no nightmare waiting on the other side, so he gave into the all too human urge and slept.

Dean found him curled up on the couch the next morning, covered in books and papers, and snoring quietly. He resisted the urge to see what would happen if he stuck the angel's hand in a bowl of warm water, and gave him a light shake instead.

"Hey, man, blueberry pancakes?"

Cas pulled himself from slumber and went to the kitchen to make coffee while Dean got to breakfast, not even bothering to tame the bedhead that he was sporting. However, pancakes didn't seem to be in their future that morning.

"Looks like we're having cereal after all, and there's not that much milk either," Dean informed him, shaking the carton with a glare. "Guess we'll make a supply run after breakfast."

Sam staggered in then with a groan, rubbing his seemingly constant bloodshot eyes. "Coffee?"

"Woah, if I ever needed proof that the walking dead actually existed," Dean quipped, but there was the underlying worry he always had toward his brother these days as he watched Sam lower himself carefully down into a chair.

"Haha." Sam propped his head in one hand. Dean brought him a bowl and what was left of the milk.

"That's all there is, I'm making a supply run this morning," he informed him and then took the opportunity to press his hand to Sam's forehead to test his theory about the red patches across his cheekbones. "Dude, you're burning up again."

Sam half-heartedly batted him away. "Yeah, I know, it's not going to change anything."

"Just make sure to tell me this time if you start getting delirious," Dean grunted at him. "I don't think you want another surprise ice bath." He dumped his own bowl in the sink. "Now I'm off, see you in a little bit."

"I'll go with you, Dean," Cas told him. "I would like to get out."

"I'd rather you stay with Sam," Dean informed him, worry for both of them pretty obvious.

"Come on, Dean, I don't need a babysitter," Sam told him. "It might help Cas to get some fresh air. I promise I won't pass out or anything."

Dean reluctantly shook his head with a sigh. "Fine. Let's go then, Cas."

They drove into town to the supermarket and Dean gave Cas half the list to make their trip quicker. He was anxious about leaving Sam for too long after he had collapsed from fever on their hunt for Metatron. And now they were also dealing with Cas' nightmares or memories or whatever the hell they were and he didn't like it one bit. Things like that never seemed to end well, and with their typical bad luck, he had a feeling in his gut that this wasn't going to either.

Castiel was trying to find the right kind of bread when a headache popped up out of no where, worming it's way behind his eyes. He frowned, reaching up to pinch the bridge of his nose, which did nothing to relieve the ache. He tried to ignore it, and turned back to the bread, grabbing a loaf before he made his way back to Dean.

A knife spiked through his head and he gasped in shock, reaching out to grab the shelves to steady himself.

" _Castiel_."

No, this wasn't happening again. He wasn't even asleep. Castiel gritted his teeth and forced himself to focus, but the blinding pain stabbed through his head again and this time it was so bad he dropped his basket and gripped his head between his hands.

_"You can't run, Castiel. I'll find you."_

He dropped to his knees, hearing voices calling to him, but he couldn't hear them. All he could hear was her.

_"Tell me where you are, Castiel!"_

"No," he whispered.

Naomi was standing over him now, not amused. " _It will be better for you if you tell me, Castiel. I will not have to resort to other methods then."_

"Stop, let me go," Castiel pleaded.

"Cas? Hey, Cas!"

That voice—he knew that voice too, but it brought comfort, a feeling of home, family. Castiel reached for it.

"Cas! Come on ma—"

_"Castiel, stop! You're mine!"_

More pain shot through Cas' head and he screamed, curling in on himself. Naomi grabbed him by the front of his coat and hauled him to his feet, dragging him over to the chair that held so many horrifying memories for him.

_"I told you you can't escape, Castiel."_

"Cas!"

~~~~~~~

Dean was just finishing up with his half of the list and was heading to meet Cas when he heard a commotion a few aisles down. Frowning, he went to see what it was and saw a group of people gathering, seeming to be standing around someone on the ground. Then he realized the person on the ground was wearing a trench coat and he rushed forward, his heart in his throat.

"Cas? Out of my way!" He pushed people aside to see Cas lying on the ground shuddering as if in the throws of a seizure.

"Sir, do you know him?" an employee asked.

"He's my brother," Dean told her simply. "He's, um…epileptic." He was now kneeling beside Cas unsure of how to proceed before he turned and glared up at the bystanders. "Got anything better to do? Give him some air!" he growled and they backed away quickly. Dean turned his attention back to his friend then. "Cas, hey, man, come on, it's Dean."

"Should I call an ambulance?" the employee asked hesitantly.

"No, he'll be okay in a minute," Dean assured her, hoping he was right. He reached out to touch Cas' shoulder, unnerved by his half-closed eyes that were rolled back into his head to show only the whites. "Cas, it's just me, you're safe." As soon as he touched him though, Cas screamed and started flailing. Dean quickly grabbed his wrists and pulled him upright, gathering him back against him as he sat down. He kept a tight grip on Cas' wrists, pressing them against Cas' chest to keep him from flailing and winced as the angel's head cracked against his chin.

"It's okay, Cas, you're really safe. Snap out of it. Cas!"

It was several excruciatingly long moments that Dean held the angel tightly, listening to him whimper as if in pain and worse, plead "no" and "stop" on occasion. Thankfully, the store employee had enough tact to move the curious bystanders away. Dean just kept talking to Cas, trying to get through whatever he was seeing and finally, finally, he felt Cas stiffen and then he went limp against him. Dean cautiously let go of Cas with one hand so he could shift him to look into his face. His stomach twisted as he saw another dribble of blood sliding from his eye.

"Cas?" Dean called quietly.

Cas gasped suddenly and his eyes flew open. He flailed for a moment but at the sound of Dean's voice, he latched onto him as if in sheer relief. Dean didn't think he had ever seen the angel show so much of that emotion in one place before.

"Dean?" Cas asked, almost hesitantly.

"Yeah, Cas it's me."

"W-what happened?"

"You keeled over in the store, man, I've told you that's no way to pick up chicks." He reached for his handkerchief and used it to wipe the blood from Cas' cheek. "You're good now, though. Think you can stand?"

Cas nodded reluctantly, and Dean practically lifted him from the ground and wrapped an arm around his waist as he threatened to fall again. The employee watched them carefully as if unsure what to do.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" she asked. "Is he okay now?"

"He will be," Dean assured her quickly. "I'm just going to get him into the car real quick and be back to pay for the groceries."

"I can take them up front for you," the woman said as if glad to have some occupation.

"Thanks," Dean told her, mainly concentrating on keeping Cas on his feet. The angel was holding onto him for dear life which was making walking slow, but Dean somehow managed it. As soon as they got out of the store, Dean turned to Cas.

"Dude, what the hell happened in there?"

"I don't know," Cas whispered, his voice trembling.

"You saw her again didn't you."

Cas nodded. "Yes, Dean. It was Naomi. I know this isn't just memories or post traumatic stress disorder or whatever you might think it is. I know she's still in my head. She was trying to get me to give up my location."

Dean felt ice in his veins. "Well you didn't give it to her, did you?"

"Of course not," Cas told him firmly, sounding vaguely insulted.

Dean swallowed hard as he unlocked the Impala one-handed and lowered Cas into the passenger seat. "Look, we'll figure this out when we get back to the bunker. I promise I'll be right back."

Dean hurried back to the store to buy his groceries and then floored it back to the bunker, not wanting to be out there any longer than they had to be. If Naomi was on their tail, it was only a matter of time before she found them. She had found Dean before, easily enough, and if she still had some sort of mental tie to Cas, who knew what would keep him safe? Maybe the wards on the bunker weren't even strong enough. He didn't know what they were going to do about this, but he did know one thing, and that was that he did not like the haunted look that was in Cas' eyes right then. It made him want to rip Naomi apart with his bare hands. He wished he had knifed the bitch when she came to chat with him before. It might have put and end to all this before it began.

Cas was still unsteady enough when they got back to the bunker to have to lean on Dean and when Sam saw his brother helping the angel back in, he instantly stood up to help, though he too practically stumbled. Dean almost shook his head at the thought of being surrounded by stubborn invalids.

"What happened?" Sam asked.

"Cas had another vision, or whatever the hell these things are," Dean told him grimly and sat Cas at the table. He pointed to the stack of books Sam had out. "Starting now, we are putting this Trial crap aside for the moment to see if we can find anything that might help us out with this situation."

"Already started," Sam told him, resuming his seat at the library table. "I haven't found anything promising yet, but there's so much to look through and I don't really know what to search under. Maybe you can think of something more specific, Cas." He started coughing, doubling over and grabbed a napkin off the table to hold over his mouth. Dean watched grimly as blood appeared and resisted the urge to pack his little brother off to bed, knowing Sam would never allow him to do so.

"Sam," Cas said quietly instead. "You shouldn't have to do this. Not now. You need to focus on the last Trial, I can wait."

"No, you can't, Cas," Dean told him. "You're a mess, man; this is tearing you apart. I can't take care of both of you. I can't fix Sam, but if I can find out how to fix you, then maybe we can be more productive. Besides, this link to Naomi, if that's what this is, is dangerous to all of us."

"I know," Cas said. "Dean, I think I should leave."

"What?" Dean demanded. "Hell, no, Cas!"

"Please listen," the angel pleaded. "You're correct, it is dangerous. Too dangerous to risk the two of you and your location here. The last thing we need is for Naomi and the others to find out about the bunker; it would do no good to anyone right now."

"You can't think we're actually going to let you kick yourself out in your condition," Dean said angrily. "Look what happened today, Cas, you go out there, some angel is gonna pick you up in an instant and you're not gonna be able to defend yourself. Look what happened when Naomi found you last time! It took you forever to heal."

"I do still have some of my powers, Dean, they're just not as potent as they used to be," Cas said, defiance flaring in his eyes. "You know that they will not hesitate to use you and Sam as leverage to get to me. I cannot in good conscious risk the two of you for my own safety."

"Well, tough," Dean snapped. "Because you're family, Cas, and family doesn't kick someone to the streets because they pose a threat. We stick together and kick it in the ass because that's how we're strong. Now, you're staying if I have to lock you in the dungeon myself."

Cas stared at him, narrowing his eyes. "That will not be necessary, Dean."

"Glad to hear," the elder Winchester replied. "So you're staying then?"

Cas hesitated, but finally gave a nod. "I don't like it, but I will. I do see that we are usually more effective as a united front than we are alone."

"Of course," Sam told him with a smile. "And we will figure this out, Cas. No matter how long it takes."

"Let's try to keep it shorter rather than longer; I have a feeling this is only going to get worse the longer we wait," Dean told them and grabbed a book from Sam's stack. "Come on then, what are we waiting for?"

 


	4. Chapter 4

_"You must kill Dean Winchester, Castiel."_

Castiel jerked awake with a gasp, flailing for a minute before he realized he was on the couch in the bunker. Shaken, he ran a hand over his face and was slightly relieved to see no blood on his fingers.

"Cas, you okay?" That was Dean, coming into the room now with a cup of hot coffee in his hand.

"Why did you let me sleep?" Castiel asked hoarsely.

"I figured you're still healing and we've all put in a ton of hours with all the research," Dean told him, fighting a yawn himself.

Castiel shoved aside several books that he had been reading and swung his legs over the side of the couch, running a hand through his already mussed hair. "I do not require sleep like you do, Dean. And I would rather not."

"Nightmares?" Dean asked him hesitantly.

Castiel looked up at him with a sigh. "Yes. They always seem to be there right on the surface."

"But not…visions?" Dean waved his hand vaguely. They still didn't know exactly what to call the episodes Cas had been having.

"No," he said firmly, then more hesitantly, "I don't know…I don't think so." He hoped not anyway, but the dreams did seem to have a different quality than the visions that would jump on him at any given moment without warning. Some of them anyway. Others, he wasn't quite so sure about. He hadn't told the Winchesters but there had been a couple times he had woken up with blood on his pillow or cheek.

"Well, I won't make you sleep if you don't want to, you're a grown angel," Dean told him, attempting to lighten the mood. "Come have some coffee."

Castiel followed him to the library table which was currently a mess of books and papers and boxes of files; anything that might remotely help them find what they needed, but they had been going at it for a week now and still nothing. There was very little known about angels apart from an outsider's perspective. At least from what they had found so far. There were vast amounts of knowledge that the Men of Letters had hidden away and they weren't quite ready to give up hope that there was some clue, no matter how obscure that might help Castiel with his problems.

"Where's Sam?" he asked, looking around for the second Winchester.

"I sent him to bed—well, dragged him really. He was out before he hit the pillow," Dean said as he set a full mug down in front of Castiel, and the angel gratefully inhaled the caffeinated aroma. Dean sat down across from him as if he was weighed down with a million pounds. "He's getting worse, Cas. Nothing helps. I wish he hadn't done this, like he had something to prove." Dean shook his head, biting his knuckle in the way Castiel had noticed he did when worried. "I'm never gonna forgive myself if he doesn't get better."

"Sam did what he felt was the right thing to do, Dean," Castiel assured him. "He would feel the same way if he was watching you suffer."

"But it's my job, you know?" Dean said with a wry smile. "Look after my pain in the ass little brother. But I guess I can't do it forever, I've gotta let him go his own way even if I hate it. I just have this bad feeling it's not gonna end well. These things never do, especially for us. And now you too, with this weird angel-cam installed in your head that we can't figure out how to deactivate. I can't help either of you, and it's making me go mad, Cas."

Castiel frowned, hating to see his friend once again taking all the weight on his shoulders, though he knew that was just how Dean Winchester did things. In fact, he might not know how to function if he didn't. "Dean, I think we should concentrate on the third Trial and leave my…condition for another time."

"Cas, we've already talked about this…"

"I know we talked about it, but I think we need to look at priorities. I'm just one angel and a broken one at that; this is just a personal issue I'm dealing with now, but closing the gates to Hell is a world-changing opportunity."

"Don't talk to me about priorities, Cas," Dean cut in angrily. "I've only got two priorities and that's getting you and Sam well. To be honest, I don't give a damn about locking down Hell anymore, not if it's going to end the way I'm afraid it's going to." He glowered across the table at the angel. "You and Sam are all I have, Cas. If you think I would throw either of you under the bus, even for the rest of mankind, I don't know where you've been for the last four years."

Though Castiel was warmed by Dean's loyalty, he was also worried. This had been the main failing of all three of them always, though Castiel could understand how easy it was to mess up when thinking you were doing what was best for humanity. He would never make a mistake like that again. Not intentionally, anyway. It had been Dean and Sam, after all, who had made him realize what free will was to begin with, and that loyalty to family and friends was often more noble than what might be considered the greater good. True, he had fallen for that reason, because of the Winchesters, but they had never cast him out, not once, and even now, after everything Castiel had done, even after lying to and betraying them because he thought he was doing the greater good, Dean and Sam still took him in and called him family. Because of them, he knew this was what family did; you stuck together no matter what.

But it was also obvious that most of their problems could be solved with the closing of Hell. Sometimes, maybe a sacrifice had to be made, principles had to be broken for the greater greater good. Of course, if it didn't mean Sam would get better, if he got worse or indeed died from these trials, Castiel knew that Dean would never see it that way, and they would be back at square one. Castiel didn't want to lose his family, so he was more inclined to agree with Dean than oppose him.

There was also another issue to consider and that was the danger he might possibly pose to them in his current state. Several of his dreams had been disturbing; Naomi trying to force him to give up his location, or betray the Winchesters in some way. He never did and knew it was likely paranoia, but on the small chance it wasn't and Naomi really could get him to talk while he was in his subconscious, then he was only putting the Winchesters in danger. He was tempted on more than one occasion to just go out and call for Naomi, put an end to this once and for all. The constant torment when he thought he had been rid of her was wearing on him more than he wanted to admit and he was so tired of running. For once, he just wanted to not have to run any more.

A sudden headache spiked behind his eyes, pulling him from his thoughts. He grunted and rubbed his temples, trying not to panic. It might just be a normal headache.

"Cas?" Dean asked warningly.

"I'm fine," Castiel replied right before he was blinded by another spike of pain and he had the sensation of being ripped from his body and transported somewhere else, hearing Dean's voice as if from far away.

_But it was not Dean he was seeing; it was Naomi. He was sitting in a chair with her bent over him, her face only inches from his. Her hands were braced on either side of him, keeping him hemmed in._

_"Tell me where you're hiding, Castiel," she demanded, eyes steely._

_"No," Castiel told her._

_She gripped his chin with her hand, jerking his face even closer to hers. "Tell me now or I will kill your precious Winchesters."_

_"You'll never find them," Castiel ground out._

_"We have our ways," she replied, almost smugly. "Now tell me."_

_"Never."_

_She backhanded him across the face. "Tell me!"_

_"Go screw yourself," he said, channeling Dean._

_Naomi was not amused. She brought up her angel blade and put it to Castiel's throat. "I have all the time in the world, Castiel, and I would love nothing more than to spend it carving every defiant thought out of you. Make you back into the good little soldier you're supposed to be. Don't worry, when I'm finished, you won't even know what you're missing. If I go far enough, you won't remember the Winchesters at all." He screamed as she started carving with the blade, felt something splash over his chest and face, and then…_

He came to with a gasp to familiar surroundings, lying on the floor in the Men of Letters' library next to a toppled chair. Dean was standing over him with a worried expression and an empty glass. Castiel noticed his clothes were wet.

"Cas, you with me?" Dean asked hesitantly, putting the glass aside.

"Y-yes, I th-think so," Castiel managed, wiping his face on his sleeve, his breath catching in his throat as he pulled it away and saw blood.

"Here," Dean said quickly and grabbed some napkins off the table, dabbing at the angel's face himself as he saw how much Castiel's hands were shaking. Neither of them said anything for a long moment until Castiel finally couldn't take it anymore.

"Dean, it's getting worse. I think it's best if I—"

"No," Dean said shortly, standing up and tossing the napkins into a trashcan.

"If I can find Naomi I might be able to stop this once and for all."

"Are you crazy, Cas? She's able to get in your head now, who knows what she could do if you were standing right in front of her. I told you we'll figure this out and we will, no matter how long it takes."

"That's the problem, Dean, I don't think we have that long," Castiel snapped, his fear making him angry.

Dean threw his arms up. "What do you want me to do then, Cas? Hell, I'm half considering going to Crowley to barter for the angel tablet if that's the only thing that will break her ties with you."

"That's not an option."

"Well we don't seem to have any others."

"Dean—"

"You know what, Cas? No. I'm not gonna argue about this anymore. Do what you want, I can't stop you, but please just give us a little more time to look into this. We still have a few things to go through and who knows? we might find something. Just, please, don't do anything stupid. I can't have another person I care about throwing their life away right now." Dean left the room and Castiel watched him go with regret. He knew the elder Winchester was only trying to help, and that it wasn't fair of him to put this extra burden on him with Sam already so sick, but there was still a part of him that felt he had to do something, and fast, before everything fell down around their heads. Call it intuition, but he was almost certain this was going to come to a head sooner rather than later.

~~~~~~~

It seemed that the very next day heralded the downward slide he was dreading.

He had just gone to refill his coffee mug after long hours of research when a headache came on so fast that he only had time to register the crash of his mug on the floor before he dropped, blacking out almost instantly.

_Castiel was in Naomi's office again, this time strapped down to her chair. He pulled at the restraints, but there was no hope of getting loose, there never had been._

_"Why, Castiel?" came Naomi's voice behind him, making him flinch as she walked around into his view. "I just don't understand why you must continue to defy me. I'm beginning to think you're sick. If you'd just let me help you…"_

_"I'm not sick," Castiel said. "I just came to the conclusion that things here should be different and if you stopped to think about it, you probably would too."_

_She shook her head with a sigh. "Always defiance, Castiel. Do you have any idea how many times I've had to go in and re-arrange things to make you see sense?"_

_Castiel shuddered. "I would rather not know."_

_"I just don't understand how you are so stubborn. Though I know it's only helped along now by the deluded ideals of the Winchesters. They have corrupted you, Castiel. They made you fall. You'd think it would be a comfort to you not to feel anything for them."_

_Castiel couldn't say anything; he just glared at his captor. The thought of giving up Sam and Dean made him sick. He could never justify that._

_"You know what I think, Castiel?" Naomi asked him, propping one hip against the arm of his chair, causing him to tense in discomfort at her closeness. "I think you want to come back to us. I really do. Just tell me where you are and we will come get you." She reached out to stroke his cheek and Castiel's skin crawled at the false gentleness. "Save you from humanity, from yourself and what you've become. You can start over, Castiel, a fresh start; everyone deserves that, even you. All those troublesome feelings can just go away."_

_Castiel jerked his head aside, closing his eyes so he didn't have to see her. "I will not betray Sam and Dean. They are my family."_

_"We're your family, Castiel," Naomi said, her voice steely once again. She moved and Castiel opened his eyes, watching her closely as she turned to the small cart beside the chair that held her tools, the instruments of torture that she had used on him countless times. His stomach flipped and his hands clenched. Why wasn't he waking up this time?_

_"Dean!" he tried shouting. Maybe it would register to them, maybe if they heard his distress they could snap him out of this nightmare. "Sam!"_

_Naomi's hand clamped around his throat, chocking him. "They can't help you. You're with me now. You disgust me, Castiel, depending so much on those filthy humans. Maybe I will wait to fix you again until you can see them killed in front of you. I want to see your face when I stab them in the throat."_

_"No," Castiel croaked out, before Naomi took her hand away and turned to the tray to select an instrument of choice. "I won't let you hurt them."_

_"I won't have to if you come quietly," Naomi said, holding up a thin, wicked-looking blade. "Renounce them, come to me of your own will and I will leave them be."_

_"You'll only make me kill them," Castiel said knowingly. "I couldn't live with that."_

_Naomi sighed. "Must you always choose the hard way, Castiel?" she demanded as she ripped his shirt open and put the blade to his flesh, a satisfied smile coming over her face as she listened to him scream._

~~~~~~~

It was a long time before Castiel woke. He wasn't sure what had happened, maybe he blacked out from the pain? He didn't want to open his eyes, but he shifted slightly, noticing that he wasn't tied down anymore at least. A groan escaped his throat, and suddenly hands were on his shoulders. He lashed out, whimpering at the thought of more pain, but he was shushed by a familiar voice, pressed back onto something soft.

"Hey, Cas, calm down, you're safe."

Castiel finally forced his eyes open to see an exhausted, worse for wear, Sam hovering over him, worry clear in his face. Castiel flailed a moment, gripping Sam's arm with one hand to make sure he was really there and searching his torso with the other for blood, phantom pain from the torture Naomi had inflicted on him still making his skin crawl. But there was nothing there. He was only wearing his shirt and trousers, but he could see his trench coat and jacket lying over the chair next to his desk—he was in his room in the bunker. Safe, as Sam said. Sam watched him take stock of his surroundings, still keeping a hand on his shoulder as if to act as an anchor to reality for which Castiel was grateful.

"You good, Cas?" Sam asked finally.

Castiel didn't know how to answer that. He didn't know what he was at the moment. "I, um… how long was I unconscious?" His voice was rough as if he had been screaming. He had been screaming. He frowned as he wondered whether he had actually been doing it out loud.

Sam glanced over to a clock on the bedside table. "About three hours now," he said. "You scared us, man. You just dropped and—" He shook himself slightly as if trying to shrug something off and gave the angel a small smile as he patted his knee. "But I'm glad to see you back now."

"Where's Dean?" Castiel asked, suddenly unnerved at the absence of the elder Winchester. After the confrontation with Naomi whether real or imagined, he found he didn't want to be separated from either of the brothers. He didn't want to know what would happen if the angels got their hands on them.

"He ran out real quick on a supply run," Sam told him, then swallowed hard. "He, um…he couldn't listen to your screaming anymore."

Castiel felt as if he were punched in the gut. His fears had been confirmed. What was worse is that he couldn't remember what had happened at the end. Had he said anything he shouldn't have? Had he told Naomi what she had wanted to know? "You could hear everything I said during my…vision?" he asked hesitantly.

Sam was silent for a while and then nodded reluctantly. "Yeah. It was like a one-sided conversation. Mostly." The haunted look in his eyes told Castiel how hard it had been to witness. He felt sick, but he had to know.

"Sam, please tell me," he began, swallowing hard past his aching throat. "Did I…did I say anything about where I am?"

Sam shook his head firmly. "No, Cas. Don't worry."

Castiel slumped back in some relief but was still not completely satisfied. He might not have spoken this time, but how many times could he resist before she broke him—again? If it had happened once, what was to stop it from happening again? Maybe he just wasn't strong enough. With a sinking feeling he knew what he had to do. He didn't like it, but it was the only way.

"Sam," he inquired. "Could you get me a drink? My, um, my throat is raw."

"Yeah, sure," Sam said and pulled himself to his feet, shuffling out of the room on the long way to the kitchen.

Castiel spent no time getting out of the bed and finished dressing before he stopped to look at a notepad on the desk. He hesitated, then scrawled a quick note, knowing it would do little good, but he could only hope. He heard the front door to the bunker creak open and knew he couldn't wait another minute. With a deep breath he stretched his wings and flew before he could have a chance to rethink his decision.

~~~~~~~

Dean climbed back into the Impala with his purchases—several bottles of scotch. With the way things were going lately, he would probably be back at the store before dawn. He closed his eyes and tried to force the image from his head of Cas writhing on the bed, the sound of his screams as he was suffering some phantom torment that he couldn't see. It was too reminiscent of watching Sam detox from the demon blood. If it was the last thing he did, he was going to shove an angel blade through Naomi's skull. If he didn't cut her into bite-sized pieces first.

He gripped the steering wheel hard as he drove back to the bunker. He almost didn't want to return, afraid of what he would find. But he knew he had to face it, and he couldn't really abandon Cas in his current state, that would be a dick move he wasn't about to make. But seeing him suffer like that, when he was already broken up enough seeing Sam walk around looking like he was on Death's door every day, was tearing Dean up. He needed to fix his family, they were all he had left and he wasn't going to lose either of them.

He was somewhat relieved when he entered the bunker and didn't hear screaming echoing through the halls. Maybe Cas had woken up or at least calmed down. He went to the kitchen and was surprised to find Sam there filling a glass of water.

"Hey, how's Cas?" Dean asked.

Sam offered him a small smile. "He woke up a little after you left. He's pretty shaken up, but I think he'll be okay. I was just getting this for him." He muffled a cough in his elbow and Dean promptly took the glass from his hand.

"You go sit down, I'll take care of Cas." He strode off down the hallway to the angel's bedroom and opened the door. "Hey Cas, I got your…" He stopped, frowning as he saw the bedroom empty. "Cas?" He quickly peeked into the adjoining bathroom but still no sign of the angel. As he turned back around his stomach clenched as he saw that the trench coat was no longer resting over the back of the chair and there was something scrawled on a notepad on the desk. Dean set the glass of water down and picked up the pad of paper.

_I'm doing what needs to be done, don't follow me._

_-Castiel_

"Son of a bitch," Dean ground out as he turned and ran from the room.


	5. Chapter 5

"Dammit, Cas!" Dean roared as he ran back out into the main room and Sam was instantly on his feet.

"What happened? Is Cas alright?" he demanded.

"He won't be for long if we don't find him," Dean growled, grabbing his jacket off the back of a chair. "He's flown the coop."

"He's gone?" Sam asked frantically, reaching for his own jacket. "I didn't think he…"

"Yeah, I know," Dean grunted and cursed again. "I told him not to run, why won't he ever listen!"

"You know you'd do the same thing, Dean," Sam said.

"He's gonna get himself killed."

"Then let's go find him before he does."

"Not you," Dean told him firmly. "You're staying here."

"The hell I am," Sam snorted. "I'm going with you, Dean."

"Sammy, I'm not going to argue with you right now. You're not on your game, and someone needs to stay in case Cas comes back and needs help."

Sam glared at him then finally nodded. "Fine, I'll stay, but if you need help, please call."

"I will," Dean tossed over his shoulder as he raced back outside to the Impala. He leapt in and turned the key in the ignition, only to hear a sputtering, sickening sound. "No, no nononono," Dean growled, trying several more times. "Come on, Baby, don't fail me now." The same sound emitted from the engine, and he slammed his hands on the steering wheel with a scream of frustration. He jumped as there was a knock on the window and he looked out to see a man holding up a handful of sparkplugs. Dean flung the door open but the man was gone by the time he got out.

"Bastard!" he shouted, "Where are you?!"

"Hello, Dean, it's good to see you again."

He turned around and saw Naomi standing with the man who had sabotaged Baby. Angels—figured.

"You know what, Naomi, I'm actually glad to see you," Dean said, trying to keep his voice as steady as possible. "You know why? Because I've been dreaming about ripping you apart for a while now."

"Always so violent and petty, like the rest of humanity," Naomi sighed. "It makes me wonder what Castiel ever saw in you to make him fall. I just don't see the attraction."

"Don't you dare mention Cas, you bitch," Dean snarled at her. "Do you have any idea what you've done to him?"

"I am simply trying to bring him home to us," she said in a falsely caring tone. "He is a wayward orphan who just needs a little guidance."

"Is that what you call it?" Dean asked with a fake laugh. "Hijacking his head and making him hallucinate that he's being tortured? You can cut that kind of crap right now."

"I would never expect a neanderthal like you to understand," Naomi told him with a snort of disgust.

"How did you even get here?" Dean demanded.

"Oh, I was in Castiel's head just long enough to—how do you say it?—put a trace on him," she told him smugly. "A little backdoor precaution that I set up before. Luckily the angel tablet didn't erase it completely."

Dean shook his head in disgust, opening his mouth to reply when gunfire sounded from inside the bunker and Dean's heart leapt into his throat. "Sammy!" He started forward, pulling his own gun from the back of his jeans. He didn't even get the chance to cock it before Naomi flicked her wrist almost lazily and it flew from his hand. The other angel materialized behind him and grabbed his arms in an iron grip, kicking the backs of his knees until he had no choice but to kneel. Naomi strode over and gripped his chin, wrenching his face up to meet her eyes.

"Now Dean, there are two ways to do this," she told him. "Either tell me where Castiel is, or I'll make you."

Dean smirked at her. "Kiss my ass."

The angel who was holding him struck him a blow across the back of the head so hard he went cross-eyed. Naomi shook her head. "So vulgar. Maybe we should see if your brother is any more forthcoming."

"You leave him alone you—"

Another blow had Dean sprawling on the ground, dirt in his mouth, before the angel drug him to his feet and followed Naomi into the bunker. They shoved Dean ahead of them down the stairs and then pushed him so that he tumbled the last few feet, landing in a heap at the bottom with a groan.

"Dean!" he heard Sam call before there was a muffled grunt and Dean started to drag himself upright.

"Sammy!" The angel with Naomi grabbed him again and drug him over to where Sam was being held in an uncomfortable position on his knees, his arms bent behind his head and an angel blade digging into his throat. Dean fought his captor to get to his brother but he only received a knee to the stomach for his trouble.

"Alright, you two, pay attention," Naomi told them as she moved to stand between the two brothers. "You're going to tell me where Castiel is and if you do, I might consider sparing you. If not, you can have the pleasure of watching each other die; and I assure you it will be slow and agonizing."

"We're not going to tell you anything," Sam grunted, and yelped when the angel blade sliced across his cheek.

"Don't you touch him!" Dean shouted. "He's sick; torture me if you want, we're never telling you where Cas is."

Naomi nodded to the angel who held Dean and another one came forward as well to grab his other arm as the elder Winchester was dragged over to one of the library tables. Books and papers were swept aside carelessly and Dean was thrown onto the table on his back, struggling the entire time.

Naomi unsheathed her angel blade and nodded to the angel holding Sam. "Bring him over here, I want him to see this."

"No, stop!" Sam cried then started coughing so badly he doubled over and blood dribbled down his chin. Dean was distracted enough so that the angels finally managed to secure him. Naomi bent over him and pressed the tip of her blade into the middle of his chest.

"Tell me where Castiel is," she demanded coldly.

"I told you I'm not going to tell you anything!" Dean ground out. "I'm not gonna let you get your filthy hands on him again!" He cried out as she dragged the blade down to his stomach then asked again. Dean's only answer was a curse, and she slid the blade cleanly into the flesh just above his hipbone, making Dean scream.

"Stop!" Sam tried to plead again but it fell on deaf ears.

"You are a very stubborn man, Dean Winchester," Naomi told him. "But I will break you eventually. That is what I do." She grabbed his jacket and was about to cut it from him when her hand slid into his pocket and touched his cell phone. Frowning, she pulled it out and looked at it with sudden interest.

"But maybe there's an easier way to do this," she said and nodded to the angels holding Dean. They yanked him from the table and shoved him into one of the chairs. Naomi handed him the phone.

"Why don't you give Castiel a call, Dean? Let him know you'd like to see him."

Dean made no move to take the phone. "He's not going to come back."

"Oh he will, and you'll make sure of that if you don't want to see your brother killed." Sam's head was yanked back by a fistful of hair and the angel blade pressed threateningly under his chin. He winced, but tried not to cry out.

"Don't, Dean," he pleaded.

Dean looked from the phone to Sam before he turned his eyes up toward Naomi, the green steely as he reached out to take the phone.

"Good choice," Naomi told him.

"I will kill you if it's the last thing I do," he told her.

Naomi smiled as if the thought amused her. "We'll see if you get the chance." She watched as he flipped through his contacts to find Cas' name and before he dialed it, she touched him under the chin with her angel blade. "And, Dean…no little hidden warnings if you want Sam to survive this."

Dean swallowed hard, but dialed Cas' phone, dread welling up in him as he listened to the ring.

~~~~~~~

Castiel hadn't gotten far before his phone rang. He had been planning on finding some secluded place and calling for Naomi but he had only gotten about a mile down the road when the buzzing in his pocket reminded him that he had brought the phone with him. He knew it was either Sam or Dean without looking at it; after all, they were the only ones who really called him and Sam would have found him missing by now. He couldn't quite bring himself to answer it, though. He knew they would be angry that he left, especially Dean, who always tried to protect him no matter how silly that idea would seem. That didn't really bother him though, he just wanted them to be safe, and he knew that if they were with him they wouldn't be. He had to do this alone.

The phone had stopped buzzing, but a few seconds later it started up again. He ignored it a second time, wondering if he should just throw it away. But when it rang a third time, he finally grabbed it from his pocket and saw Dean's name on the caller id. He held it a minute, and then finally answered the call.

"What?" he demanded briskly, more than he meant to.

"Hey, Cas," Dean's voice came over the phone sounding hesitant. "What's up?"

Castiel frowned. What was up? Did Dean know he was missing or had he not come back to the bunker yet? "Um…" he wasn't sure what to reply.

"Hey, um, I think you should come back for dinner," Dean said, his voice sounding tight and strained. Something was definitely wrong. What did dinner have to do with anything? Dean should be furious with him, this didn't sound like his friend at all. Castiel's frown deepened.

"Are you…drunk?" he asked.

"No," Dean snapped. "I just—I think we should talk, so come back, okay?"

"Dean are you alright?"

"Gotta go, Cas," Dean said quickly and the call ended before Castiel could reply.

He stood looking at the phone. What had gotten into Dean? It was almost like—

Castiel's stomach plummeted with sudden realization. He knew exactly what was wrong with Dean; he was being forced, someone must have set him up and Castiel knew it could only be one person.

He used some of his precious energy to teleport back to the bunker, staggering shamefully as he got there, his angel blade instantly in his hand. He flung himself through the door and down the stairs.

"Dean? Sam?" he called.

He sprinted into the library and skidded to a stop as he saw Naomi and several other angels surrounding Sam and Dean who were both bloody and disheveled; Sam crumped against a bookshelf and Dean restrained in a chair. The sight made Castiel's blood boil. How dare Naomi go after his friends—his family?

Dean met his eyes resignedly as he came into the room. Castiel knew he had left him clues so he would stay away, but how did he really expect him to do that when he knew the brothers were in trouble?

"Well, Castiel, it's good to see you again," Naomi said with mock cordiality as she stepped forward.

"Let them go, Naomi, it's me you want," he told her.

"On the contrary," Naomi said with a small smile. "I do want you, Castiel, but I also know how much you care for these two filthy creatures; they provide optimum leverage."

"You bitch," Dean snarled before he was struck in the stomach with the pommel of an angel blade, chocking out a grunt and wheeze of pain.

Castiel surged forward in anger, but Naomi was in front of him, her own angel blade hovering at his throat. She tsked softly, shaking her head. "The loyalty you show them is purely disgusting considering how you throw your real family away," she said. "It's going to take me forever to put you back to sorts."

"I'm never letting you into my head again," Castiel snarled at her.

"Oh, but Castiel," Naomi smirked at him. "I've never left."

A familiar blinding headache stabbed at him and he felt himself falling to the floor, convulsing as he listened to Sam and Dean shouting his name.

_He was still there in the bunker; Naomi was standing next to him, pressing the angel blade he had dropped back into his hand. "Kill them, Castiel," she told him. "Prove your loyalty to me."_

_"I won't," he told her, but he couldn't seem to move, he couldn't hand the blade back, his hand was clenched around it against his will._

_"You will," she snarled and he took a step forward._

_"No, please, no," he was begging, but he couldn't stop himself. He strode over the floor to where Dean was tied to the chair. The older Winchester was watching him, trying to hide the fear in his features that Castiel could see all too well. It was like in the crypt all over again. He couldn't hurt Dean again, he just couldn't._

_"Please, Naomi, don't make me do this."_

_"You are in no position to barter, Castiel. You lost those rights long ago. Now kill him!"_

_Castiel raised his angel blade over Dean, fighting himself as his body attempted to stab his friend. Dean winced slightly but looked up to meet Castiel's eyes._

_"Cas, if you can hear me, it's not your fault, okay?" he said._

_"Dean, no," Castiel cried, his hand trembling as he still fought it._

_"It's not your fault."_

Castiel flashed back to reality, but it was hard to tell because he was in the same position. He could move though, and quickly pulled his hand down and dropped his blade, taking a step back with a relived sigh. But before he could turn on Naomi, another headache blinded him.

_He only had his hands now, but Naomi controlled them._

_"Kill him, Castiel!" she shouted again._

_"Cas, it's—" Dean grunted as Castiel's fist connected with his jaw, then again and again before his hands gripped the man's throat, and he watched in horror as Dean's eyes grew wide, chocking as Castiel unwillingly crushed his windpipe._

_"That's it, Castiel, finish him off."_

_Castiel closed his eyes, forcing all the energy he had into waking up. "You'll never have me, Naomi," he growled out and then suddenly, with a last attempt and a guttural scream of rage, he was able to let go._

Castiel came to with a gasp, lying at Dean's feet. The hunter was gagging and choking on air as he fought to draw it into his lungs again. Castiel could feel blood running down his face from his eyes as he grabbed his angel blade from where he had dropped it earlier and hauled himself to his feet, wanting to free his friends but knowing he had to face the enemy first. He turned on Naomi who was watching him with anger clear in her eyes.

"Why can't you just come quietly, Castiel? Why can't you do what you're told?"

"I won't kill my friends," he told her firmly. "No matter what you do to me, you can't change that. They are my family."

"Then perhaps you should join them," she said dangerously.

"You'll have to take me out yourself," Castiel told her.

"Very well."

She lunged at him and he sidestepped, slashing at her with his blade. She was a lot quicker than him, a lot stronger. Her blade darted out and sliced his arm open. Castiel winced, but didn't let it faze him. He needed to concentrate.

He lunged forward and they grappled, before Naomi struck him a blow to the face, then a knee to the ribs before she flung him away. He skidded over the floor, coming to a stop against a bookcase that shook and caused several heavy tomes to fall on him. Naomi was on him before he could regain his feet, her hands gripping his coat as she yanked him into a sitting position and slammed him back against the shelves.

"I'm just about done with you," she snarled. Castiel tried to bring his blade up, but she grabbed his wrist and wrenched it free, holding her own against his throat. "Unfortunately we still need to know where the angel tablet is. And we'll use whatever method necessary to find out. And trust me, it's not going to be pleasant."

She stabbed the blade into his shoulder, making Cas cry out as he reached up to grip her hand around her blade.

"Cas!" Dean croaked before a muffled grunt sounded, making Castiel furious all over again.

"I'll die before I go with you," he ground out.

"Oh, Castiel," Naomi said. "It's going to be a long time before I let you die."

"I'm sorry I don't share the same sentiments then." Castiel ground out and pulled her blade from his shoulder before slamming it up through her sternum. Naomi gasped in shock as the wound sparked and she grabbed at him with a snarl, but it was too late. Light exploded out of her eyes and mouth and she slumped back, leaving the burned outlines of her wings that showed she was really dead.

It was like an instant relief to Castiel. His mind was suddenly clearer than he had remembered it ever being—and maybe the reason was because she had always been in his head, no matter how vaguely. The clarity was almost uncomfortable, but he already felt a world better. Castiel hauled himself to his feet and dropped the blade on top of her, still reveling in the relief that flooded over him.

"Castiel, you are coming with us!" one of the other angels said as Castiel turned around to face them.

"Cas!" Sam called suddenly. "Get out of here now!"

Seeing what he was doing, Castiel quickly teleported deeper into the bunker just as Sam slammed a bloody hand down on the sigil he had drawn while everyone was watching Castiel's fight with Naomi. Castiel heard the angels shout and then sudden silence and he knew it was done. He hurried back to the library, grabbing his blade to cut Dean free. Sam was barely able to sit upright, but he still crawled over to help Castiel get Dean untied. The elder Winchester was still breathing raggedly and Castiel was pained to see the finger-shaped bruises he had left on his neck, but Dean still smiled at Castiel as he weakly rubbed his raw wrists.

"Dude, you showed her. Just wish you had left me some." He nearly toppled from the chair and Castiel caught him and lowered him down beside his brother, the three of them supporting each other, hands braced against each other's shoulders, as they sat, reveling in the enormity that it was all over. Or at least it seemed that Castiel's affliction was. Finally he turned back to his friends.

"You're bleeding," he said.

"So are you," Dean retuned, nodding to the wound in Castiel's shoulder.

"It will heal with some rest," he assured them. "Dean, I'm sorry, I was hoping not to involve you two in this…"

"Stop," Dean said tiredly, waving a hand before dropping it back into his lap. "You did what you thought was right, it's not your fault it turned to crap as usual. One of these days, we'll all realize that it's better just to stick together."

A wry smile curled over Sam's lips. "Right. Maybe you should start acting as you preach."

"Shut up, bitch," Dean told him, leaning his head back against the chair with a slight grunt. "I don't know if I can get off this floor.

"Well, you're too big to carry to bed, jerk," Sam told him fondly. "You should try crawling."

"I can help," Castiel told them, listening to their banter fondly. His brothers. He would do anything to protect them.

"You sure?" Dean asked.

"My wound is already healing. I think having Naomi out of my head has given me more energy—perhaps it was acting like an infection and wearing my power away. It's still slower than it should be, but with some rest, I should be fine within a couple days."

"Good," Dean said, then nodded to Naomi's body. "What are we going to do with her?"

"I'll take care of it," Castiel assured them. But not yet. He needed to make sure they were okay and comfortably settled and that any injuries were seen to. They had done so much looking after him the last couple weeks that he was eager to return the favor.

First he got Dean to his room and then Sam who hadn't gained more than a few bruises and small cuts but had been strained more than he should have been in his condition. He was practically asleep by the time Castiel helped him into bed, but he grabbed the angel's sleeve before he left.

"I'm glad you're okay, Cas. We were worried about you for a while."

Castiel smiled slightly. "With Naomi gone, I hope that many of my brothers and sisters can be well again. Now get some sleep or Dean will send me back in here."

Sam smiled but his eyes were already closed and Castiel knew he was asleep before he even got to the door. He hurried back to Dean who was trying to patch himself up before Castiel forced him to stop, making the hunter sit grudgingly as the angel did all the work. The whole time, he somehow couldn't quite bring himself to look the elder Winchester in the eye, mainly so he wouldn't see the bruises on his face and neck that he had made.

"Cas," Dean said after a while in that no-nonsense voice he had learned from being a big brother. "It wasn't your fault, man."

Castiel inhaled deeply as he concentrated on taping gauze over the stab wound on Dean's side. "I was weak enough to let her in."

"No way man, you've always been strong enough to break her hold on you when it really mattered," Dean told him firmly. "You can't blame yourself for what you did as someone else's puppet."

Castiel turned to put away the first aid stuff. "It just seems that no matter what I do I always put you and Sam in some sort of danger, usually by my own hand, however unintentionally."

"In case you haven't figured it out yet, that's kind of part of the job," Dean told him wryly. "Look, Cas, Sam and I have messed up just as many times as you have, maybe more, and sure, we've all done crap we aren't proud of and I know you feel that you have to do penance or whatever after opening Purgatory, but in reality, you have always done what you thought was right and that's all any of us can do. So stop beating yourself up about it, man. You're still going to be family, whether you like it or not, no matter how many mistakes you make."

Castiel looked up at him for the first time and saw the sincerity in Dean's eyes. "I really do appreciate it, Dean. You know that, right?"

Dean smirked. "Considering you keep trying to sacrifice yourself for us, yeah."

Castiel gave a small smile back. "I promise I'll try not to self-flagellate so much then—as long as you promise to do the same."

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes, easing himself back onto the bed. "I don't know, Cas, that seems to be a big percentage of my character."

"I've come to realize it's something we all do," Castiel told him. "Something to work on?"

Dean cracked his eyes open. "Yeah, alright."

"Now we can concentrate on the third Trial. The sooner we can finish this, the better, I think."

"Yeah," Dean agreed and swallowed hard, and Castiel knew he was thinking of his brother running almost a continuous fever and coughing up blood more and more. Castiel worried that Sam's condition might not improve even after the Trials were complete. He knew next to nothing about them, in fact. Perhaps he should work on finding out more. Preferably without Dean's knowledge. If it was bad news, he wanted to hear it first.

But not tonight. For the moment, he was going to watch over the brothers as they rested. He was exhausted himself and the healing was taking a toll on him, but at the moment, he just wanted to enjoy the clarity of his mind once again. He had a feeling that there would be nothing but stressful times ahead.


	6. Chapter 6

The day when everything started to fall apart began with Sam waking up with a bad fever.

Castiel had been sitting in the library overnight researching—he no longer needed to sleep, thankfully; ever since defeating Naomi, it seemed that breaking her ties with him had helped him get back to full power again—when he heard Dean clattering around in the kitchen, cursing. He frowned, getting up to see what was wrong, but Dean was already gone by the time he got there. He decided to go see what was going on, having a feeling Sam was having another bout of illness. As if on cue, he heard the rattling coughs that were only growing worse and worse as the days went by, making the elder Winchester only more frantic to find out what exactly they needed to do to complete the third Trial.

Sam's door was ajar, letting out the sound of his coughing and Dean's weary assurances that were more for himself than anything. Castiel slipped inside and saw Sam sprawled on his back in only a t-shirt and boxer shorts, his cheeks bright red from fever and protesting weakly as Dean shoved a thermometer under his tongue.

"Just stop being a baby, I'm not going to let you pass out again—you'll fry your geek brains and then I'd have to do all the research," Dean told him as he wrung washcloths out into a bowl and draped them over Sam's head and neck. He caught sight of Castiel standing in the doorway and the angel drew forward with concern.

"Is there anything I can do to help?" he asked hopelessly, knowing from experience that it was really just something Sam had to ride out, but he and Dean always tried to do what they could to make him more comfortable when he had these episodes.

"Not really," Dean sighed tiredly then turned back to his brother as the thermometer beeped all too soon. He took it out and rubbed a hand over his face. "104, Sammy. Damn it."

Sam moaned then started to cough again, rolling onto his side before Dean pulled him upright, watching resignedly as blood spattered onto Sam's shirt and down his chin. Dean gently wiped the blood away with a washcloth and let Sam lean against him, too weak to do anything else as he fought to breathe. Castiel's chest hurt watching his friend struggle and wished there was something he could do. He could see the same wish written in Dean's exhausted features as the elder brother absently carded his fingers through Sam's sweaty hair. Cas silently took the dirty washcloth from Dean and fetched some more towels, refilling the bowl in the sink on one side of the room and helped Dean wrestle Sam's sweat-soaked shirt off so they could put a damp towel over his chest. This seemed to soothe him a bit and Sam squeezed Dean's knee in thanks, afraid to speak lest he start coughing again.

Dean left him for a minute to search through the drawers in Sam's side table, coming up with a bottle of flu medicine that seemed to take the edge off his episodes if they were lucky. He tipped it out of the box and cursed as he saw the pitiful remains of the dark red medicine.

"That's not gonna do anything. I guess I'll have to make a supply run. Crap." He reached down as Sam started coughing again and pulled him up so he could breathe easier, grabbing a tissue to wipe he mouth with.

"I can go, you should stay with him," Castiel offered instantly, knowing how reluctant Dean would be to leave his younger brother, even if Castiel was able to do everything he could to take care of him.

Dean hesitated only a moment before he nodded. He handed the empty box to the angel. "Okay, but make sure it's this kind and not the kids' or he'll have to drink the whole bottle. Pick up some milk too, and whatever else you think we need. I haven't even looked."

"I will," Castiel assured him, taking the box, glad there was something he could do to help.

"And Cas," Dean added. "Be careful, man. There might still be angels gunning for you and now they know where we are."

"Don't worry, I'll be fine." Castiel gave him a small smile before he went back to the kitchen to check on what was needed, then headed to the nearest pharmacy to pick up the supplies.

He grabbed the milk first and some bread and a few other things he had seen they were lacking, and then spent much longer than he had expected, trying to find the right bottle of medicine. There were far too many kinds that did too many different things and Castiel was utterly bewildered.

He had just thought he found the right one when he heard the telltale flutter of wings behind him and felt the presence of another angel. He dropped the basket of groceries and had his angel blade out in an instant, ready for anything.

"Woah, woah!" the angel said, holding out his hands, seemingly unarmed. "I don't want to hurt you, Castiel. I'm just here to talk!"

"How do you know my name?" Castiel asked, frowning, still not putting the blade away. He wasn't stupid, and he had only gotten more cautious after having Naomi in his head for so long. "I don't recognize you."

"We never met. I was gone long before you existed. I'm Metatron."

"You're Metatron?" Castiel scowled at the unassuming figure in front of him. Metatron's vessel was very short, only coming up to his shoulder, and wore a sweater that Castiel thought made him look like he might have been a teacher or something.

"It would do me little good to walk around with a sign on my back," the angel said, still eyeing the angel blade Castiel held with seeming nervousness. "You should put that away before someone sees you with it. I just want to talk."

Castiel scrutinized him for a few more seconds before he slid the blade back into his sleeve but was more than ready to pull it out again. "Okay, then talk."

"Not here, it's a little in the open. You have no idea who could be listening," Metatron said quietly, looking around as if people might start popping out of the woodwork.

"I don't have time for this, I have to get back to Sam and Dean," Castiel said, grabbing two bottles of the proper medicine and picking up the basket again, turning his back on the other angel and heading to the check out. Metatron followed, grabbing his sleeve.

"I need your help, Castiel!" he said firmly.

Castiel shook him off. "I said I don't have time for this; we're too busy trying to figure out how to close Hell, I can't help you."

"What if I could help you?" Metatron inquired.

Castiel glared at him again. "And what makes you think I'm naive enough to believe that? I've learned my lesson time and again, Metatron; I will not make the mistake now when my friend's life is on the line."

"You seem to forget that I wrote the tablets," Metatron told him with a smug look that Castiel decided he didn't like at all. "Please, just a little chat over coffee. It will only take a few minutes."

Castiel fought his better judgment with the fact he just wanted this angel to leave him alone. "Fine," he finally said. "But only fifteen minutes. I have to get Sam his medicine and I will make no promises to help you."

"Of course, I know you're busy, I'll wait outside," Metatron said, sounding slightly sarcastic, and disappeared as Castiel gave the items to the cashier and handed her a wad of crumpled money before he left.

Metatron was standing outside and Castiel reluctantly went over to him. "Alright, where did you want to—"

Before he could finish his question they were standing outside a café somewhere far away from Kansas.

Castiel turned indignantly to Metatron who only smiled. "Best crapes in the world, Castiel. Don't you want some?"

"All I want is for you to talk so I can go back home," Castiel told him as he followed him to a table and was forced to sit down. He was not liking this Metatron at all. Sam and Dean hadn't said much about him, but they hadn't had a lot of time to talk to him either, and despite the fact he saved Kevin from Crowley, Castiel couldn't help but feel that he was up to no good.

"Fine, if you're going to be that way about it," Metatron said with a sigh. "I suppose we'll get to business. You know it's been a long time since I've had any conversation with anyone at all? I get lonely too."

"I don't care," Castiel replied bad-temperedly, worrying that Dean would be wondering where he was. "Talk now, or I'm leaving."

He barely suppressed a groan as a waitress came to their table and Metatron ordered some food from her. Castiel frowned as he looked at her, as if trying to place something familiar, but couldn't.

"Anything for you?" she asked Castiel with a smile.

"No, thank you," he told her tersely, her smile disappearing as Metatron turned back to Castiel.

"You should have some, they're delicious."

"I don't care about your refined tastes, Metatron, tell me about the final Trial. How is it accomplished?"

Metatron frowned. "Touchy. You know I just wrote them down, they didn't really come with a step-by-step process."

Castiel's eyes darkened and he repressed the urge to slip his angel blade out again. "So you don't know how to do it? Why are you wasting my time?"

He stood up to leave, but the other angel reached across the table and grabbed his sleeve in an almost threatening hold. Castiel was instantly on guard and he glowered across at Metatron's smiling face. "Sit down, Castiel. I'm not done with you yet."

His food came then and he let go of Castiel to turn his full attention to it, groaning with pleasure as he took his first bite. Castiel watched in disgust and anger that he was being delayed. He had to wait until Metatron had finished chewing before he would speak again.

"So since I can't help with that, I want to discuss another issue with you. Where's the angel tablet?"

Castiel's stomach clenched at the question. "I don't have it."

"Oh," Metatron shrugged. "No matter, I think I still remember everything I need to know." He took another bite and Castiel shifted impatiently.

"What do you need to know?" he asked.

Metatron swallowed then took a long moment to stare at Castiel before he continued. "There isn't just a way to lock up Hell you know. There's a way to lock up Heaven too."

"What?" Castiel asked quietly, unsure if he had actually heard what he thought he did.

"You heard me," Metatron said with a smirk. "No more angel troubles, no more demons, no more threat of apocalyptic destruction. It could all go back to normal. That's what you and the Winchesters want, isn't it?"

Castiel was speechless. "You're telling me there is a way to lock Heaven? How come I've never heard of this?"

"Please," Metatron scoffed. "You're just a soldier, Castiel. No one knows this stuff. You think we'd actually let it slip to everyone? That could be messy."

"Then why are you telling me now?"

"Because I need your help."

"You've said that, but you refuse to tell me what with," Castiel ground out, getting angrier by the second.

"With the Trials to close Heaven, of course. Just like to close Hell," Metatron told him simply.

"I don't have time to help you," Castiel told him. "I don't even think I should help you. Do you think it's a good idea to lock Heaven up?"

"With all the trouble that's happened in the last few years do you think it's a good idea to leave it open?" Metatron shot back. "Heaven's a mess, Castiel, as you well know since you caused a good portion of it. Putting the angels in time out for a while might actually get them to settle their differences and put things straight again."

"Or, more likely, they would all kill each other off," Castiel said and stood up. "You're mad, Metatron. I'm not going to help you with this. I need to go." He was about to walk out the door, when Metatron stood as well and grabbed his sleeve again.

"Are you sure that's the best option, Castiel?" he asked.

Castiel looked steadily at him for a long time and then said, "I'm helping Sam and Dean right now. They are my first priority. You're idea to close Heaven is, in my opinion, madness, and I don't want anything to do with it." He shook him off and strode to the door. He was just checking to make sure no one would see him disappear when Metatron popped up in front of him again.

"You're making a mistake, Castiel," he said quietly.

"Then it will be my own mistake, and not one made because I was manipulated into doing it," he said firmly and left Metatron without another word, materializing back in Kansas, right outside the bunker.

He went inside, still troubled from his meeting, and dropped the groceries in the kitchen before taking the medicine to Sam's room where Dean was still sitting trying to keep his brother cool with the towels. He looked up as Castiel came in, frowning.

"What took you so long, man?" he grunted and snatched the medicine Castiel handed to him, opening it and pouring the red liquid into the small cup for Sam to take.

"I'm sorry, I was…detained," the angel told him, watching as Dean roused his fitfully sleeping brother and raised his head to pour the medicine into him with practiced ease.

Dean turned back to the angel with a frown. "Detained? By what? Is everything alright, Cas?"

"I'll tell you in a minute," Castiel replied tiredly, not wanting to disturb Sam now.

Dean looked like he was going to protest, then nodded. "Okay. Go make some coffee or something, would you?"

Castiel went to do just that and waited in the kitchen for Dean to join him. The elder Winchester trudged in and went straight for the coffee pot, pouring a large cup and gulping half of it even though it was hot enough to scald.

"How is Sam?" Castiel asked.

"Crappy," Dean replied dully. "But at least he's asleep now. Usually if he can sleep it off for a few hours, he feels better." He slumped down at the table and put his head in his hands. "Dammit, Cas, I don't know what to do for him anymore. We have to figure this out."

"I agree," Castiel said firmly.

"Now what is this that delayed you?" Dean inquired tiredly as he turned back to his coffee.

So Castiel related his meeting with Metatron and what the scribe was planning. When he finished, Dean cursed and stood up to get more coffee.

"As if we didn't have enough trouble at the moment," he groused. "He's trying to lock up Heaven? How is that even possible?"

"I didn't think it was," Castiel replied tiredly, deciding to get some coffee for himself too even if he didn't really need it. He had acquired the taste. "But it could cause more problems than solve them. And I don't know what goes into the trials for completing it. I assume it is something difficult or he wouldn't have asked for my help."

"Yeah, well, not gonna happen," Dean said in no uncertain terms. "I already have one man down and coughing up blood every two minutes, I don't need you getting yourself run down again or worse."

"I wasn't planning on helping him, but we do need to figure out what he's doing in case it's something that we need to stop from happening."

"In case you haven't noticed, Cas, we've kind of got our hands full," Dean commented sarcastically.

"I understand, Dean," Castiel said, getting a bit impatient. "Which is why I'll deal with this myself. You need to help Sam figure out the final Trial and while you do that, I'll go and see if I can find out what Metatron is planning to do."

"I didn't mean for you to do is solo, Cas, I just meant we need to figure out the Hell Trials first."

"I don't think we have time for that, Dean," Castiel snapped. "Metatron seemed determined to do this as soon as possible and without any knowledge of what he's doing, we would be going in blind which could be suicide."

Dean sighed heavily and ran a hand through his hair. "Okay, so what do you plan on doing? Grab Metaron and put the screws to him?"

Castiel shook his head. "I'm afraid we would need the Angel Tablet to find out. Metatron said that it contains the information on the Trials."

"The Angel Tablet?" Dean deadpanned. "In case you don't remember, Crowley has that."

"I'm quite aware of that fact."

"Then how the hell do you suggest getting it back?"

"I'll think of something," Castiel said quietly, though in truth, he really didn't have any ideas at all. Crowley had gone to great lengths to get the Angel Tablet before, and it would be unlikely that he would relinquish it without force for anything less than a monumental trade.

They were silent for a while before Dean spoke again. "So, this locking up Heaven thing…If Metatron did do this, what would happen to you? I mean, you're kind of fallen, right? So would you be locked up with the rest of them or left knocking on Heaven's door?"

Castiel's insides squirmed at that thought. "I…haven't really thought about it. Without knowing exactly what the Trials accomplish, I couldn't say." He didn't want to go back. At least not to stay. He would be torn apart up there; the angels still hadn't forgiven him for wrecking Heaven in the first place. Besides that, well, he wasn't sure he would be able to stand the thought of never seeing Sam and Dean again. They were his family, and they needed his help and support, especially now, and likely would again later. More selfishly, he needed them. They were the only ones who had accepted him for who he was, and forgave him for things he couldn't even forgive himself for. That was one thing about family that the Winchesters had taught him and he was sick thinking that he would lose that.

"Don't worry, Cas," Dean told him, as if sensing his discomfort. "We won't let them take you."

Castiel nodded but wasn't completely reassured. This new concern only made him all the more eager to find the Angel Tablet. A sudden thought occurred to him.

"We could trade Crowley the Demon Tablet," he said.

"Come again?" Dean asked, staring at the angel across the table.

"The only thing Crowley would accept in trade for the Angel Tablet, at least that I can think of now, would be the Demon Tablet."

"Cas, Kevin is still translating it," Dean said.

"He translated the last Trial. For now, that is all we need. We can always figure some way to get it back later."

"What if there's something we miss though, this is our last chance and if everything goes to plan and we do finish the Trials, Crowley isn't exactly going to be topside anymore to ask where the Tablet is."

"I know," Castiel said quietly. "But it might be the only option we have."

"Well, let's think about it. Wait a couple days and see if we can come up with anything here. Sam thinks he might have found a lead on something, but he's obviously down for the count right now."

"Then we'll continue his work," Castiel decided and stood up.

"I guess that's one thing we can do," Dean grunted. "I swear, if I never have to do research again for as long as I live…"

They spent hours pouring over books and files and everything they could think of, trying to find the information Sam had been looking into. Much later, the younger Winchester stumbled out to greet them looking half asleep, and still wearing his sweat pants and a blanket wrapped around him.

"Hey, Sammy, what are you doing up?" Dean asked, instantly on his feet to put a steadying hand on his brother's shoulder.

"I can't lay down anymore, it hurts too much," Sam said quietly. "Thought I'd come help. I'm feeling a little better now."

Dean didn't look convinced, but he must have determined that Sam's fever had gone down a bit at least because he let Sam sit at the table with them.

"Well, buckle up, because Cas has some news," Dean told him wryly.

Castiel explained to Sam about Metatron and what they were planning to do about him. Thankfully, Sam was a little more understanding to his plan; of course, that might have just been the fever talking.

"He's right, Dean, it's the only real option we have. Metatron probably wouldn't tell Cas what's what even if he did offer to help him—I mean, our track record with angels hasn't exactly taught us to trust them, no offense, Cas—and this is the only way we'll have a chance of getting ahead of his plans."

"I get that, I just don't like it," Dean grumbled as he slammed shut the cover of the book he had been looking at. "Can't anything ever be easy? Don't answer that," he shot quickly at his brother and the angel.

Sam smiled slightly before turning back to his papers. "We'll do what we can. In the meantime, we can concentrate on this…hold on, I think I found something. We need to go check some files."

They went down to the storage room of the bunker and Sam found the box that had been referenced and they brought it back up to the library. The younger Winchester pulled out a reel of old film.

"Movie night?" he inquired.

The three of them sat down and watched the film in rapt interest as a priest working with the Men of Letters cured a demon. They were still speechless as the film ran out.

"Well, that happened," Dean said, breaking the silence. "So it is possible."

"Yeah, I guess it is," Sam said, turning the projector off. He coughed into his fist, but seemed better off already. "Hopefully the rest of the things in this box will tell us everything we need to know about demon rehab 101."

Castiel stood up. "If you've found this, I think I'm going to pay a visit to Kevin. We need to retrieve the Angel Tablet from Crowley as soon as possible."

"Okay, but don't get waylaid by anyone this time," Dean told him.

Castiel decided not to answer and flew to the houseboat Kevin was staying on. The poor boy looked even worse than Castiel had remembered, dark circles under his reddened eyes and an overall look of malnutrition. He started as the angel appeared in the room and clutched his head as if he had a headache.

"Don't do that! I'm already freaking out enough as it is!" Kevin cried.

"I'm sorry," Castiel told him, stepping closer, his nose wrinkling suddenly at the smell that pervaded his nostrils. "It smells rather foul in here."

"I don't really have time to clean. Or bathe," Kevin replied indignantly, glaring up from his notes. "You need something?"

"We're going to need the Demon Tablet."

"Wait, what?" Kevin asked. "But I'm not done…"

"I know. Hopefully this will be temporary, but we need it to trade to Crowley for the Angel Tablet."

"What? No way!" Kevin cried, hands covering the Tablet as if to keep it from Castiel. "I need to figure this out, there's still stuff about the Trials I don't know about—probably crucial things…there's this part that I can't make out yet, but I have a feeling it's important."

"Sam and Dean know the final Trial and they are on their way to figuring out how it will be accomplished," Castiel told him. "But Metatron just informed me that there are also trials to close Heaven and he's going to attempt them. I can't let him do that, so we need to figure out what they are and stop him."

"Are you kidding me? Do you know how long it took me to figure these three out? Months! There's no way I can figure a whole new tablet out in the time you're going to need to me."

"Kevin, you have to do this for us," Castiel snapped, harsher than he meant to. There was just something about Metatron and the whole situation that he didn't like. "Please. You're the only one who can do this."

Kevin sighed and then finally picked the Demon Tablet up from his desk and hesitantly handed it to Castiel. "Alright, but, seriously. If you can get this back, please try to. There may be something really important that I missed."

"I will," the angel said, taking the Tablet and tucking it inside his coat for safekeeping. "Hopefully I'll be back with the Angel Tablet in a few days. Take the time to rest and…clean up."

Kevin snorted. "Whatever. Wish Sam luck."

Castiel flew back to the bunker and plopped the Demon Tablet down on the table as Sam and Dean looked up at him.

"Well, I guess all we have to do is call Crowley and make a deal," Dean said grudgingly. "But I still don't think it's a good idea to do this now."

"Was Kevin angry you took the Tablet?" Sam asked.

Castiel shook his head. "He says he hasn't finished translating the entire part on the Trials yet. He fears he might have missed something important."

"And if he does?" Dean demanded, suddenly on guard. "If there's something else there that might determine the success of this whole damn thing? Sam's life could be in danger! I'm not gonna allow that to happen."

"Dean, come on, there can't be that much more to it," Sam said.

"Are you kidding me? There's always fine print. That's what crap like this runs on, you should know that by now, Sam."

"I might have a solution," Castiel cut in.

"Oh yeah, and what is that?" Dean demanded.

"You'll need a demon to cure. If you make this deal, one will come right to you."

"Hold on," Sam said, chuckling despite himself. "Are you suggesting we cure Crowley?"

To their surprise, Dean burst out laughing, and clapped Cas on the shoulder. "Dude, that's actually perfect. He won't suspect anything and we'll nab him and turn his ass human again before he can say 'crumpets'."

"This might actually work," Sam said shuffling through his notes. "I think I've got this down. If everything turns out well, we should be ending all of this within a few days."

"Awesome," Dean said, sounding slightly relieved. "Alright then, I guess I'll make a call to the King of Hell."

Castiel smiled slightly at the brothers, but he couldn't help but feel it wasn't going to be that easy. There was something about this whole situation that set badly in his stomach. But whatever came, he knew he would help them through it—he just hoped they would make it to the other side.

 


	7. Chapter 7

"Squirrel, Nice to hear your voice again."

"Cut the crap, Crowley," Dean growled through the phone. "We want to make a deal."

"Oh, a deal is it? What is it now, another death in the family?"

Dean's jaw tightened, but he kept his voice calm. "We want a trade. The Angel Tablet for the Demon Tablet."

"And why, pray, would I want to do that?"

"Because you don't want us to have all the secrets about you, do you?"

"And how can I be sure you haven't had your little honor roll student translate it all before he sends it back to the library?"

"Does it matter? I know you want it anyway. Besides, you've had enough time to have a crack at the Angel Tablet as well."

"True," Crowley said, musingly. "Very well, meet me at dear old departed Bobby's scrap heap tomorrow at noon. We'll strike the deal."

"We'll be there," Dean said and ended the call. He turned around to Sam and Cas. "Alright, it's set up. We gotta get some things ready."

They had planned what would happen during the exchange but of course they all knew how hard it was to pull the wool over Crowley's eyes. Dean knew they had to think of every possible eventuality, but they didn't have any time to play around or mess this up, so it had to work. He knew time was ticking with Metatron out there in the wind doing who knew what at the moment, and on top of that, he simply wanted all of this to end. He was tired of seeing his baby brother in pain all the time, and this had all gone on long enough. Something had to give, and he was going to make sure Crowley did first.

It would be a bit of a drive so as soon as they got everything together, they got in the Impala and started off to Bobby's place. Dean didn't want to go back, knowing it would only drudge up painful memories, and that had likely been Crowley's thinking, but he also knew they didn't have a choice, and it would be a familiar ground for them to meet their enemy on.

It was a rather quiet trip, the three of them all with their own thoughts. Sam let Cas sit shotgun while he slept in the back. He was feeling a bit better, finally, but Dean insisted he get some rest, and he wasn't actually arguing which only made the elder Winchester worry all the more.

As Dean cast a glance in the rearview mirror at his slumbering brother, the angel next to him finally spoke up.

"When we get the Angel Tablet back from Crowley, I'll need to go after Metatron as soon as Kevin determines what he's after," Cas said.

"Of course," Dean replied, frowning slightly, wondering what he was getting at.

Cas shifted on the seat as if uncomfortable. "I will try to be there for you and Sam, but I believe my duty is to stop Metatron. I have already caused enough problems in Heaven as it is, I feel I must take it upon myself to stop this as I am the only one who knows it is happening."

"Don't worry about it, Cas, Sam and I have got this. We're still looking into it, but from what we know already it looks like we just shoot Crowley up with some human blood and chant a little Latin and bam, Hell's closed for business. Almost too easy."

"That's what I'm worried about," the angel replied tiredly.

"What do you mean?" Dean cast him a glance.

"When is it ever that easy, Dean? You've said yourself that we never get a break; that there's always a catch. I've come to realize the same thing. I'm just afraid that it won't be that easy. I—" He lowered his voice so the sleeping Winchester in the back wouldn't hear. "I fear that this might cost Sam more than he's willing to give."

Dean swallowed and gripped the steering wheel. Truthfully, he had been thinking the same thing, but he didn't know what else they could do. He knew Cas was right; the only difference was that he didn't think it would be more than Sam was willing to give, and that was what worried him most. He remembered Sam telling him that doing the Trials finally made him feel clean. It was something Dean didn't want to hear him say ever again, but he also knew that he wasn't going to change Sam's mind just like that. Still, closing Hell or not, if it ended up with his brother sacrificing himself for this, he wasn't going to let that happen, whether Sam had made peace with the idea or not.

"I know, Cas," he said after a long moment. "That's why I'm keeping my eye on him. I'm not going to let anything happen to my little brother. We can't just keep sacrificing ourselves to clean up other people's messes. But if we can do this, if we have even a snowball's chance, then I also realize it is our duty to do it."

Cas nodded understandingly. "I know. But we must tread cautiously."

It was midmorning the next day when they got to Bobby's scrap yard and stood waiting for Crowley to show.

Dean checked his watch and growled. "I should have known he would be late."

"On the contrary, Squirrel, the King of Hell is always on time."

They turned around to see Crowley with his typical smirk, hands nonchalantly in pockets, standing behind them.

"Hello, boys, Cas, long time no blah blah—shall we get to business?"

Dean nodded to Sam and he opened his jacket to show Crowley the Demon Tablet.

"Now show us yours," Dean told him.

Crowley rolled his eyes but opened his coat as well, showing the stone.

"And the contract?" Dean added.

Crowley reached into the other side of his coat and pulled out a roll of paper, tossing it out so that it rolled for several yards.

"All that for a tablet exchange?" Dean asked. "I bet there's no hidden agendas in there."

"You caught me," Crowley replied sarcastically. "Truth is, I have another proposition for you—if you still want the Angel Tablet."

"And what is that?" Sam demanded.

"Stand down from the Trials."

"What? No way," Dean told him.

"Come now, Dean, you can't really expect me to give up the Angel Tablet that easy. Not after everything I went through to get it—Cas knows what I'm talking about," he winked at the angel. "You can't tell me you didn't expect a little extra, did you, Dean? It is me after all. I'm hardly going to waste this opportunity."

Dean cast a glance at Sam and Cas. It didn't really change things, but they had to at least make it look like they weren't happy about it.

"Tick tock, either take it or leave it," Crowley coaxed.

"Fine," Dean grunted. "But I'm reading this first, to make sure you don't try to screw us further."

"Now Dean, don't you trust me? I'm wounded," Crowley cajoled. "I am a business man after all. Unlike your pet angel who tried to screw me six ways to Sunday when we were partners. Granted, they do say you should do background checks."

"Shut up," Dean snapped, seeing Cas tense and clench his fists. He didn't want any of them to be reminded about the Purgatory fiasco. "Fine, I'll sign it, but if you lied, we'll continue the Trials and I'll make sure to personally kick your ass into the pit and lock the door behind you."

"Fair enough," Crowley shrugged. "But Moose signs. He's doing the Trials, it's his place."

"No way, Crowley," Dean growled.

"Dean, it's all right," Sam said, as he took a pen out of his pocket and turned to the demon. "But no kissing."

"No need to be such a prude," Crowley snarked as he watched Sam bend to sign to document.

"Cas," Dean said quietly and the angel teleported over to Crowley's side, snapping a cuff around his wrist before he noticed the angel was even there.

"What the…seriously?" He chuckled, looking down to see the other cuff attached to Cas' wrist. "Didn't know you were into the kinky stuff, Cas. You do realize this isn't going to hold me, though." He snapped his fingers, then frowned when nothing happened and tried again.

"Demonic handcuffs," Dean informed him with a small smile of satisfaction. "A little something we found in our new digs. No tricks, no smoking out; pretty much, that means you're our bitch now." He watched with a smirk as Cas removed the cuff from his own wrist and snapped it around Crowley's other hand before grabbing the Angel Tablet from his coat. "And, in case you hadn't figured it out: No deal."

"I should have known better than to trust a Winchester, let alone three of them—or, two and Winchester adjacent," Crowley grumbled giving Cas a deadly look. "So what? You torture me for information? You already have the Demon Tablet, it probably tells you all my dirty little secrets, I don't see why you need me."

"Not exactly," Sam said. "We have something else planned for you."

"And what, pray tell, might that be, Moose?"

"You're the Third Trial."

Crowley glared at them, then at his cuffs. "Bollocks."

~~~~~~~

They loaded Crowley into the trunk of the Impala and Dean handed Castiel the Demon Tablet as well.

"I'll meet you at the Bunker, I'm going to take these to Kevin," Cas said, and was gone before they could say anything else.

Dean looked at Sam and shrugged. "Well, let's get back and make sure we have everything ready to turn his ass human."

"At least it worked," Sam said.

"This is only step one, Sammy," Dean replied wryly as he climbed into the driver's seat and started the car, heading back to the Bunker and hoping Kevin could find what he needed to in time.

Cas was waiting for them when they got back, searching through stacks of books that were piled all over the table in the library.

"What is this, study hall?" Dean asked sarcastically as he and Sam manhandled Crowley, who was tied up and had a sack over his head, down the stairs of the bunker and toward the dungeon.

"I'm just looking to see if I can find anything at all about what might be used to close Heaven," Cas told them, sounding tired.

Crowley made an interested sound and Dean slapped him on the back of the head. "Tell us later, Cas, little ears are listening." He shoved Crowley forward roughly. "Come on sunshine, time to show you your new home."

After they had locked Crowley up in the dungeon, safely in the devil's trap, they went back up to talk to Cas.

"Kevin says he'll call us when he finds something," Cas told the brothers.

"Great," Dean said. "How's he doing anyway?"

The angel shrugged. "He's not very happy at the moment with this new task, but he does want to help and he knows he's the only one who can do so. I only hope he can translate the Angel Tablet before it's too late. It doesn't look like we're going to find any other references to it." He tossed a book back onto the table with a sigh.

"Alright, well, I'll help you with that, and Sam, you study up on the last Trial. Make sure you have the procedure down pat," Dean told his brother. "Not that I'd shed a tear if Crowley suddenly exploded, but this is probably our best shot at finishing the Trials and we don't want to blow it."

"Yeah, no, you're right," Sam admitted tiredly. "You know where I put that box of files?"

Dean's heart ached at the exhaustion on his brother's face and he went to get the box for him, reminding himself that once this was all over they could all rest; maybe take a vacation. "Here it is. Sam, you sure you don't want to get a few hours rest? Crowley's not going anywhere right now, after all, and you look like you're about to fall over."

"I know," Sam replied with a sigh, leaning against a chair. "I just kind of want this to be over with."

"Yeah, I hear ya," Dean said quietly. "Just don't push too hard, we've been on the road all day. At least get something to eat first, and maybe make some coffee, I think we could all use some."

"Sure," Sam said and headed off to the kitchen.

Dean cast a glance at Cas. "You really think Kevin is going to be able to translate that fast? I mean, Metatron could almost be done, for all we know."

"I was worried about the same thing," Cas replied. "That's why I'm planning on hunting for him if we don't hear anything from Kevin by tomorrow night. I don't think we can afford to wait any longer."

"At least we have Crowley now," Dean said. "Now I just have to child proof this thing to make sure Sammy isn't going to kill himself finishing it."

They worked through the night, only taking breaks to run to the bathroom after copious amounts of coffee. Eventually, Sam dropped off to sleep and Dean brought a pillow and a blanket to the table to make him a little more comfortable as he and Cas continued looking for anything that might help either of their problems.

Sometime before dawn, Dean too dropped off to sleep on a heavy tome and was rattled awake several hours later by his phone. He snatched it and answered it groggily. "What?"

"Dean," Kevin's exhausted voice came over the line. "I got the first one…I hope. I'm pretty sure anyway."

"Well, what is it then?" Dean asked, rubbing sleep from his face.

"It says you need a nephilim's heart."

"Is that it? Kind of vague."

"So were the hell trials, but Dean, this is weird. It took me a while just to find where this was listed on the tablet. It's almost like a footnote or something. I only found it because it had Metatron's symbol by it."

"Well, that doesn't sound fishy at all," Dean commented dryly, casting a glance at Cas who was watching him. "Okay, thanks, Kevin, keep up the good work. We'll get on this. Let us know when you find anything else out." He hung up and turned to Cas.

"He got the first trial, said it was a nephilim's heart. You know where Metatron would go for that?"

"That is a strange thing for a trial," Cas frowned, and rubbed his brow as if he had a headache. "I…don't know. Nephilim are outcast, the progeny of humans and angels. I'm sure there are several around, but I don't know exactly where…" he frowned deeper and then sat up straight. "Wait, when Metatron met me the other day he took me to this place to talk, a restaurant. The waitress there, she seemed…different, I had this strange feeling about her but didn't really pay attention because I was too distracted by Metatron."

"You think she could be one of those nephilim?" Dean asked.

"I don't think it is a coincidence that Metatron took me there. I think it would be folly not to at least look into it."

"Okay, then, let's go," Dean said and stood up, grabbing his jacket.

Sam woke up with a start and rubbed his eyes. "What's going on? Where are you going?"

"To stop Metatron," Dean told him.

"Dean," Cas said as his friend settled his gun into the back of his waistband. "You should stay here, I can stop Metatron myself."

"Yeah, not gonna happen," Dean said. "Cas, look, this dude is obviously bad news, and I'm not gonna just let you walk in there with no one to watch your back. Especially since it's about ninety-nine percent guaranteed that he is expecting you to crash his party since you refused to join him."

"Dean's right," Sam put in. "If it's me you're worried about, I'm fine. Well…fine enough, anyway. I'm just going to be researching, and Crowley's all locked up. I promise I won't burn the place down." He seemed surprised Dean was actually the one willing to leave him this time.

"See? I'm going, no arguments," Dean informed the angel. "I told you we were doing this together and that's what we're going to do. Now let's go."

"Alright, I should have known there's no point in arguing," Cas agreed reluctantly and put a hand on Dean's shoulder. In another second they were outside a small café.

"This is where he took me," Cas told the hunter, looking around.

"What do we do now then?"

"We wait, I suppose."

"How do we know Metatron hasn't already been here and gone?" Dean asked, looking around.

Cas nodded to a brunet woman who was bringing a tray to a table out on the veranda of the restaurant. "That's her. I assume she wouldn't be here if Metatron got to her first."

"Okay, then, I guess we got here in time, amazingly."

"If I was right about her."

"Okay, so I guess we just hang out here then."

They stayed close by, keeping an eye on the café throughout the day, and trying to stay inconspicuous. As it neared closing time, Dean checked his watch as they watched the waitress lock up.

"Perhaps I was wrong after all," Cas said wearily.

"Let's stick around a little longer. Follow her home maybe. Metatron might be waiting for her there," Dean suggested, trying to stifle a yawn.

They watched as the nephilim locked the main door on her way out and proceeded to walk down the street. Dean and Cas followed her at a distance, watching as she headed toward a park as a cut through.

"You go that way," Dean told Cas. "Let's check around a little, see if Metatron is waiting in the bushes somewhere."

They split up and Dean crept along off the path in the shadow of the bushes and trees. He cursed as he tripped over a sprinkler, and then frowned as he looked up, thinking he heard something else. He reached for the gun at his back and cocked it as he looked around.

"I should have known you would try to stick your nose in this."

Dean spun to see Metatron just as the angel swung a fallen tree branch at his head. Dean didn't have time to deflect the blow and it laid him out, dazed on the ground, his gun sliding several feet away. He blinked blearily up at the angel, grunting as he tried to get to his knees at least.

"Hmm, more effective than I expected," the angel said, then smirked down at the hunter. "Sweet dreams."

The branch connected again and everything went black.

~~~~~~~

Castiel crept along in the other direction from the way Dean had gone. He had lost sight of the girl, but he hurried with the hope of catching up to her again. Just then, he heard a voice cry out from up ahead.

"Get away from me! I know what you are, I can see your halo."

"As do I. Abomination."

Castiel hurried out of the darkness back onto the path only to see Metatron facing the nephilim, his angel blade in hand.

"Metatron!" he called, his own blade out now. "Leave her alone."

"Ah, Castiel," the other angel said, not sounding surprised at all. "I wondered when you would show up."

The nephilim spun around, backing away from both of them, and snarled. "Please, I just want to live my life! I didn't ask for any trouble!"

Castiel came toward her slowly, his free hand raised. "I'm not going to hurt you, but he will. Just come with me and everything will be alright." He wondered where Dean was, and worried Metatron might have found him first.

"Like I believe that," the nephilim scoffed. Her eyes turned white and she punched Castiel across the face before throwing him into a nearby dumpster, knocking the breath from his body and the angel blade from his hand. She picked him up again and threw him against a nearby tree. Castiel's head cracked against the trunk, dazing him. He tried to stand up as he watched her go after Metatron next and slam him up against the dumpster. Castiel saw the angel blade in his hand too late.

"No, let him go!" he tried to yell, but Metatron had already buried it in her stomach and she gasped, slumping to the ground, as Metatron retrieved his bloodied blade. He looked up at Castiel and grinned.

"See all the fun we could have had working together?" he asked with a smirk. "See you around Castiel."

"Metatron!" Castiel ground out as he gained his feet just before Metatron disappeared with the body. Castiel slumped back against the tree and closed his eyes for a moment in defeat before he pulled himself upright and grabbed his blade. Now he had to find out what happened to Dean.

"Dean!" he called over and over, looking around on the path the hunter had taken, before he was finally answered by a groan. He ran over to a pile of bushes and found Dean lying under them, a heavy branch tossed over his body. Castiel crouched by his side and rolled him onto his back as Dean became conscious again.

"Dean, are you alright? What happened?"

Dean groaned and grabbed Castiel's proffered hand as he pulled himself into a sitting position. "Metatron took a tree to my head and ran off. Did you see him?"

Castiel sighed. "I found him. I wasn't able to stop him, Dean. He killed the nephilim."

Dean cursed and winced as he touched the welt on his temple, his fingers coming away bloody. "Well, that's that then. I guess the only thing we can do is wait to hear from Kevin about the next trial and see if we can stop that one from happening."

"I don't like this, Dean. It's almost like he was waiting for us to get here before he made his move. He could have taken her any time between when I met with him and now, but he chose the night we were here." Castiel couldn't help but think that the other angel was toying with them—him especially. Why, he didn't know, but something wasn't right about this at all. He knew he would feel much better when this was all over.

"Let's get back to the bunker," Dean said as he retrieved his gun and got shakily to his feet. "There's nothing else we can do here."

"No," Castiel agreed. "Let's hope the next one goes better."

"Yeah," Dean agreed and squeezed his eyes shut as Castiel gripped his shoulder and took them back to the bunker.

 


	8. Chapter 8

"What happened?" Sam asked as he watched Dean and Castiel come into the bunker, Dean's face and the angry welt on his forehead answer enough that things hadn't gone smoothly.

"Metatron was one step ahead of us. Somehow. Don't know how he managed it, we were there all damn day," Dean growled as he threw his jacket over a chair and went to get an ice pack from the kitchen for his head.

"I fear he set us up," Castiel told the younger Winchester as he sat down across from him. "There was no reason for him to wait as long as he did. I think he's toying with me."

Sam nodded, leaning back wearily in his chair. "Hopefully Kevin will have the next trial soon. If you need any help…"

Castiel shook his head, touched that Sam would offer, but knowing it wasn't going to happen. "No, Sam, you need to concentrate on your own trials. Especially now that you are so close. How is your research going?"

"I think I've honestly done as much as I can," Sam said with a deep sigh, rubbing his most likely aching head. "We just need to find consecrated ground to perform the exorcism and then I have to purify my blood."

"How is that accomplished?" Castiel asked.

"Confession, apparently, at least that's what it seems like in the accounts." Sam rubbed his eyes again and then looked over his shoulder to see if Dean was still out of the room before he turned back to Castiel and lowered his voice. "Cas, I don't…I don't know how the confession will work."

"You've never been to confession?" the angel asked.

Sam shook his head quickly. "No, I know how it works, but I—I don't know where to even start. And how do I know that I'll have confessed everything that I need to? I have done so many things that I should confess that it's almost overwhelming."

"Sam," Castiel said, his heart aching for his friend at seeing his distress. "We have all done so many things that have been wrong. If anyone should understand that, it's me. I know how you feel. I—I felt my time in Purgatory was penance and yet I still don't feel as if I have washed away all the sins I committed when I opened it to take on the souls; especially because I had to first betray you and Dean. But we always did the things we did because we felt they were right. You and Dean both are good men, Sam, despite the mistakes you made, and likely in the long run because of them. You ask where to start and how you'll know when you're finished. Start with what feels right to you, and end when your heart feels lighter, when you have nothing left to feel guilty about."

Sam nodded, ducking his head slightly and swallowing hard. "Thanks, Cas. That actually helps a lot."

"You'll do alright, Sam," Castiel replied with a small smile. "I do believe you're the best of us."

Sam didn't look convinced. He opened his mouth to say something, then closed it before continuing. "Cas, I'm really…"

He cut himself off as Dean came back into the room. "Well, without having any word from Kevin, I think we need to start on phase three of the Hell Trials," he said. "But first a good night's sleep. Then we find the place to do it."

Castiel and Sam didn't argue, they were both exhausted, and though the angel didn't need to sleep anymore, he looked forward to a night of quiet contemplation while he thought over his options for the future.

There was quite a lot to think about. For one, if Sam managed to close Hell, then there wasn't much reason for him to stick around to help the Winchesters anymore without demons to hunt. To add to that, it seemed more and more that Metatron might be a real threat. This whole shutting up Heaven thing had been unexpected and strange to Castiel. He had spoken to Sam earlier of doing things because they felt right, even if you couldn't always see the consequences of one's actions, but with Metatron it didn't seem like that. It seemed like he had an ulterior motive that wasn't good at all. He had a feeling he was going to have to do something about the former scribe. Perhaps even stop him permanently if it came to that.

Castiel sat for several hours thinking, when he realized that it wouldn't be a bad idea to go off now and look for Metatron himself. He knew Dean wanted to help him, but it was just another thing he didn't want his friend to have to think about. He should be there for Sam right now, not off on a near wild goose chase for a rogue angel with strange delusional fantasies. Perhaps if he looked long enough, he could find Metatron before he completely the second trial.

For the first time in months, he tuned into angel radio to see if he could hear any report about where Metatron might be, but after nearly two hours, there was still nothing and he began to get anxious. It was nearly dawn, and he decided he should go and continue the hunt himself. He got up to write a note to the brothers but as he was finding a pen, he heard a footstep behind him and turned, somewhat guiltily, to find Dean standing there.

"If you're thinking of bolting, Cas, don't," he said.

"Dean," Castiel sighed as he turned to face his friend. "This is something I have to do. I fear we can't waste any more time."

"I agree," Dean told him. "But, humor me, Cas, because we've been through so much crap lately, that I think you owe me, and yourself, that much." He shook his head before continuing. "Look, I get we need to find Metatron, and we will, but I don't want you doing it alone."

"You do realize I am still an angel," Castiel told him, somewhat annoyed that Dean always seemed to protect him as if he weren't capable of anything.

"Yeah, Cas, I know," Dean grunted. "But my point is that Metatron can't be trusted; like you said, he was waiting for us last night before he made his move for a reason. Whatever that reason is, it can't be good and I want you to have someone to watch your back. So here's what we're going to do. We're going to find a place for Sam to complete the Trials, take him and Crowley there and once they get set up, we'll only be in the way, so then we can go after Metatron and maybe Kevin will even have something for us by then."

Castiel stayed silent for a long time, then finally nodded, knowing there really was no point in arguing, and secretly was glad to have someone to help him. "Alright. At least let me help you find a place for the exorcism."

"Okay, sounds good. We'll be ready in an hour or so. I just wanted to let Sam sleep for a little longer." He sounded tired and resigned as he went over to start a pot of coffee. "You know what we're going to do when this is all over, Cas? We're going to get drunk, watch movies and sleep for a week, and I don't care if the world ends in that time. And I'm having pie. Lot's of it."

Castiel smiled slightly at his friend. "It will be nice to relax for a while."

"Hell yes," Dean grunted. "I just want this to be over, Cas. I need this to be over. I need Sam to be healthy and not coughing his lungs up and for there not to be maniacs trying to destroy the world for just one week while we relax. I'm just so tired, man. Screw it all, next time we meet up with Metatron we should just stab him in the neck and be done with it."

"I wish it could be that simple," Castiel said wearily. "I will go and start to look for a place, and yes, I promise I won't go after Metatron yet."

"Okay," Dean said with a yawn and poured a fresh cup of coffee. "Let's finish this."

~~~~~~~~

An hour later, Cas had found a place nearby for Sam to perform the exorcism, and he and Dean had loaded Crowley into the trunk of the Impala again for transport, which the demon was less than happy about, but Dean was beyond caring. Sam looked like crap still, but at least seemed to have some energy, even if it was only because of the impending completion of the Trials.

They painted a devil's trap in the old abandoned church Cas had found and chained Crowley in a chair before finally taking the hood off of his head. He looked less than amused

"So what is this then? Some sort of elaborate joke?"

"I already explained it to you, asshat, you're the Third Trial," Dean told him.

Crowley shrugged. "Hm, poetic I suppose, closing Hell with the king of it. So are you going to sacrifice me, is that it? Drink my blood, maybe, Moose?"

Sam shifted uncomfortably as Dean stepped in front of his brother protectively. "No sacrifice, and no blood sucking. If this all goes right, you won't die at all, unfortunately. No, your fate will be worse. You're going to be mortal again, Crowley, human."

Crowley laughed. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, I'm dead serious," Dean informed him with a mocking smile. "A little treatment, and your ass is mortal. No more king of hell."

"Can we talk about this?" Crowley asked as Dean walked out of the church. "Make a deal? I can get you loads more demons to convert to humanity if you want."

"You are way past the bargaining stage, buddy."

His phone rang and he hurried outside to answer it as he saw it was Kevin. "Kevin, hey, what do you have for me?"

"The second trial," the kid's ragged voice came over the phone. Dean felt guilty, knowing he probably hadn't slept for days, but none of them had really. "It says you need a cupid's bow."

"A cupid's bow?" Dean frowned. "Okay, great, thanks Kevin, keep up the good work."

"Yeah, sure, it's not like I need sleep."

"Hey, when this is all over, you can sleep for as long as you like," Dean told him fondly. "Talk later."

He went over to Cas who was sitting on the hood of the Impala, his eyes closed as he listened into angel radio again, still hoping to hear something from Metatron. He looked up as Dean approached him.

"Hey, Kevin gave me the next trial. Apparently Metatron needs a cupid's bow."

Cas gave a slight groan. "That could lead us anywhere. There must be a number of cupids out working at the moment. I'll have to listen into their frequency and see what I can find out. We'll probably be making several stops." He looked up at the hunter then. "Is everything settled here?"

Dean nodded, casting a glance back at the dilapidated church. "Yeah."

"Dean, if you want to stay…"

"No," Dean shook his head. "I know Sam wants to do this alone. I think he needs to. We'll get back here by the last hour just to make sure everything's going okay, but for now, I think it's best to let him be."

Cas nodded in agreement. "He'll be okay, Dean."

"I hope so," Dean muttered before he looked up to see his younger brother coming out of the church himself, unsteady on his feet, but still standing somehow."

"Hey, was that Kevin?" he asked.

"Yeah, we have our next lead, we'll be leaving as soon as Cas can figure out where we're going. Will you be okay here?"

Sam nodded then ducked his head a bit. "Dean, I wanted to talk to you before I did this."

Dean's stomach flipped slightly, knowing he probably wasn't going to like this conversation. "Sure, Sam, what is it?"

His younger brother shifted uncomfortably, then looked up to meet Dean's eyes. "I'm about to confess to purify my blood, but…I wanted you to hear part of it because I don't think I can confess properly unless I tell you this in person."

"Sammy…" Dean began, but Sam cut him off.

"Please, just…just listen for once, Dean," he pleaded. "I don't really know how to say this, because no apology is really good enough, but I'm sorry about what happened after you and Cas got pulled into Purgatory. I should have looked for you, and I will never forgive myself for that. I don't know where my mind was at then, I just know it was in a bad place and I did the only thing I could think of then, and ran. But I just want you to know how sorry I am and that I wish every day that I could go back and change what I did."

"Sam you don't have to apologize," Dean told him. "I was a dick about it too, and, man, we all make mistakes. And I just want you to know that if I had been gone, for good, I would have wanted you to get out and find a life, you know I would never deny you that."

"I know," Sam said quietly, his eyes moist. "I just can't believe I…"

"Sammy, this doesn't need to be a guilt trip," Dean told him, starting to get annoyed. "Let's just put it behind us, okay."

"I just…" Sam sighed and hurried on. "My biggest confession is how I always seem to fail you, no matter what, I either trust the wrong person, or start the end of the world and make the wrong choices, and every time, the thing that hurts me worse than anything is knowing that I let you down, because you always trust me, and I have never given you reason to." His voice broke, and Dean had had enough of that. He reached out a grabbed Sam's face between his hands, shaking him as he forced him to look him in the eye.

"Sam, listen to me, look at me," he waited until the wet eyes met his before he continued. "We've all made mistakes, and have done things we probably should be shot for on principle alone, but at the end of the day, you're still my brother, and I'm damn proud of the man you've become and I don't care what anyone else thinks and neither should you. You have never let me down when they stakes were highest, and that's what matters. And I don't want to hear any more of this feeling unclean crap, do you hear me? You're a hero, Sam, and what you're doing with the Trials here proves it. Now let's finish this, okay? Let's just get this the hell over."

Sam nodded and rubbed his eyes. "Okay. And Dean," he looked up and a small smile flitted over his lips. "Thank you."

"Dean," Cas said, moving toward the brothers. "I have the first location. We need to go." He turned to Sam and awkwardly held out his hand. "Good luck, Sam."

The younger Winchester smiled but pulled the angel into a swift hug instead, slapping his back before letting him go. "Thanks, Cas."

Cas smiled fondly then stepped over to Dean and gripped his shoulder before sending them to their first location.

~~~~~~~~

It was a long day to say the least. Dean and Castiel stopped at every place a cupid was working, looking for signs of Metatron, and warning the cupids to be on the look out and let them know if they saw anything. The problem was most of them didn't even want to talk to Cas, as he was still an outcast and a rebel, not to mention the fact he had recently killed Naomi, but they did what they could.

Dean watched the clock as they hours ticked by, wondering how Sam was doing. He got more and more antsy as they approached the final hour and hoped they would find Metatron soon.

"There's only one more cupid working at the moment," Cas told him wearily, just as exhausted with the search as the hunter was. "If this isn't it, then we may have to check back with some of the others."

"Let's do this," Dean sighed, forcing himself to look away from his watch. Cas noticed and hesitated before they left for their next location.

"I can take you back to Sam."

"No, not yet, let's check this out and then if nothing comes of it, you can take me back."

The angel flew them to the final destination as it was getting dark and Dean hoped this was the one. He needed to get back to Sam, he'd had this pit in his stomach since that morning that had only grown as the day went on. Just everything about this and about the thing with Metatron felt wrong to him. He was on the verge of calling Sam when Cas grabbed his shoulder.

"Dean, there."

Dean looked over down the street they had appeared on and saw a woman standing by a streetlight, clutching her hand to her chest.

"Is that the cupid?" Dean asked as he followed Cas toward her.

Cas nodded and called out to her as they approached. She looked up at them.

"Castiel, I was expecting you."

"Metatron was here, wasn't he?" Cas asked resignedly.

She nodded. "He took my bow. He told me you would come, and to tell you that you couldn't stop him."

"Well, he's wrong," Dean snarled, totally done with Meta-douche and everything he stood for. "Do you know where he went?"

The cupid shook her head. "No, he only said to tell you he would find you when he was done."

"Son of a bitch," Dean muttered.

"Dean, I have to find him," Cas said as they left the cupid. "Something bad is going to happen, I can feel it. Everything about this is wrong."

"Tell me about it," Dean muttered, then cursed as his phone rang. His stomach clenched as he thought it might be Sam, but when he saw Kevin's name, he answered it quickly. "What is it, Kevin? Please tell me you have the final Trial. We're two-nothing right now and that is not acceptable at the moment," he growled.

"Don't be mad," Kevin said. "But this is super important, you'll thank me later."

"What?" Dean demanded. "Today would be good."

"I went back to the Demon Tablet and…"

"Dammit, Kevin!" Dean cut him off angrily. "We're kind of running out of time here."

"Just please listen," Kevin pleaded with him. "Look, you know how I said there are footnotes? Okay, so for the Hell Trials there's this one note that I have been trying to figure out for a while now, because I felt it was important, and it is. Dean, it says that the final part of the Third Trial is a sacrifice. That the one doing the Trials has to give his life."

"What?" Dean demanded, wondering if he had heard Kevin correctly.

"Dean, if Sam finishes this Trial, he's going to die!" Kevin shouted.

"I gotta go," Dean told him, hanging up and running over to where Cas was still standing.

"Cas, get us back to the church now!" he yelled.

"What's wrong?" the angel asked.

"Kevin says the trial will kill Sam, we gotta stop him now, he could be finishing it any second."

 


	9. Chapter 9

They set down outside the church and Dean had barely shook off the dizziness of angel travel before he was halfway up the stairs, Cas right on his heels. He flung the door open just as Sam finished the exorcism, and cut his hand with a knife, ready to complete the ceremony. Dean was horrified to see the trial juice or whatever it was visibly running through Sam's veins, tracing glowing orange paths up his forearms.

"Sammy, stop!" he yelled.

Sam startled, looking up at Dean like a frightened rabbit. His older brother blanched, seeing how terrible Sam looked, like he was already on the verge of death, his eyes hollow and red-rimmed, barely able to stay upright. This last Trial had taken everything left out of him in just a few hours.

"Dean, what…? I'm almost finished!" Sam protested, looking confused like he wasn't sure he was actually seeing Dean standing there.

"Sam, just hold on," Dean told him, approaching slowly. "Just…wait, okay; listen to me. Kevin found more info on the trials; he said that if you finish this, you die. It requires a sacrifice."

Sam looked down at his hand, then back to Dean, as if not believing what he was hearing. "I—I have to. Dean, you know I have to finish this."

"No, Sammy, you don't," Dean told him as gently as possible, still moving toward his delirious brother. "It's not worth your life. I'm not going to let you do this."

"Dean," Cas said suddenly and Dean turned to see him frowning as if in concentration. "I think I found Metatron; I'll be back."

"Cas, wait—" but he was already gone and Dean cursed, knowing he was too late to help the angel this time so he may as well not worry about it. Instead he turned back to Sam who still looked on the verge of finishing the trial anyway.

"Dean, look at him, look at Crowley!" Sam said, pointing to the demon sitting woozily in the chair. "He's practically human already! We're so close, we can't stop now."

"Sammy, think about it, about everything we know now. We don't need to close Hell, we already have enough to hold over their heads, enough to turn the tide."

"Maybe I need to do this, for me," Sam told him. "Maybe I need to do this to prove that I don't mess up everything."

"Sam, I told you before…"

"No, Dean, I know what you said, but you know it's not true." Sam chocked back a sob and staggered toward his brother. "You want to know what I confessed? That I always let you down. That's my greatest sin, and I can't—"

"Is that what you really think?" Dean demanded. "That after everything we've been through, what we've done for each other, that I would just throw you aside after a few mistakes? Sammy, come on. I'm willing to let Crowley and all the bastards who killed Mom walk because of you. Don't you dare think there is anything past or present that I would put in front of you. It has never been like that. Ever. I need you to see that—I'm begging you."

Sam's breath hitched with sobs, and tears tracked down his grimy face. He looked down at his arms, at the blood dripping from his cut hand before they came back up to his brother. "How do I stop?"

Dean shook his head, heading toward Sam. "Just let it go."

Sam shook his head swiftly. "I can't. It's in me, Dean, you don't know what this feels like!"

Dean grabbed a handkerchief from his pocket and gripped Sam's injured hand, wrapping it tightly around the wound. "Listen to me," he said gently. "We will figure it out, just like we always do. Come on." He reached forward and pulled his little brother into a hug. "Just let it go. Let it go, brother." He held Sam tighter, feeling the energy surge through his brother's body; Sam was practically sobbing from the pain, vibrating as Dean tried to soothe him, but he took several deep breaths and finally seemed to push back the rogue energy from the Trials.

"Hey, I think it worked," Sam said, pulling away from Dean to show him that the Trial juice was dissipating.

Dean grinned in relief and clapped his hand on Sam's shoulder. "See? Now let's get out of here, we still need to stop Metatron. Now where's Cas got to?"

They hurried toward the doors of the ramshackle church.

"Hey! What about me?" Crowley demanded, seeming to come out of whatever stupor he had been in now that Sam dissipated the energy from the Trial.

"You can rot here, for all we care," Dean shot back, gripping Sam's elbow to help his still unsteady brother out of the church.

"Cas!" Dean called before they even got out the door, but he and Sam stopped dead as they saw what awaited them outside near the Impala. Cas was looking slightly dazed, his nose bloody, with the almost comically shorter Metatron holding an angel blade to his throat.

"Well, look who finally showed up, the Hardy Boys," Metatron smirked. "We've been waiting for you."

"I'm sorry, he snuck up on me," Castiel grunted.

"You son of a bitch! Let him go!" Dean demanded.

"Oh, I have no intention of that," Metatron told him. "Sorry boys, but your little sidekick here has something I need."

"Yeah, I don't think so," Dean said and stepped forward before he went flying backwards against the wall, pinned by Metatron's power and unable to get free.

"Dean!" Sam cried before turning back to Metatron and holding his hands out, still swaying on his feet and looking like he was going to pass out any minute. "Look, let's just calm down and talk about this. Figure something—agh!" He suddenly folded with a scream and dropped to the ground, wreathing. Dean, horrified at his brother's sudden change of health, was frantic to get free.

"Metatron, what are you doing to him, you bastard?!" he screamed, trying with everything he had to get free as he watched his little brother curl up on the ground in obviously unspeakable pain.

"I'm not doing anything to him," Metatron said with annoyance. "The Trials have backfired, the damage to his body was too great to just go away. Don't you ever read the fine print?"

"Sammy!" Dean cried.

"Metatron, let them go," Castiel growled, watching in anguish as his friends suffered, horrified at what was happening to Sam. "This is between you and me, tell me what you want and I'll just give it to you if you promise let them go."

Metatron smiled. "I'd rather not take that chance, Castiel. I don't think you'd be so willing if you knew what I was to ask of you."

Castiel suddenly slammed his head back into Metatron's and the smaller angel howled and staggered back a step as Cas turned around and gripped the hand he held the angel blade with to keep Metatron from stabbing him.

"Cas!" Dean called. He had spotted his friend's blade lying on the ground. He motioned to it when Castiel turned around and the angel made a dive for it, only to have Metatron haul him back by one foot, stabbing down at his heart. Cas turned out of the way just in time, and the blade cut across his arm instead. A deep cut, but he leapt to his feet and grappled with the smaller angel for another moment before Metatron somehow managed to maneuver his blade around and slice Castiel in the side before throwing him to the ground and then kicking him several more feet.

"Cas!" Dean yelled, renewing his struggles to get free. Sam was still whimpering nearby. The elder Winchester was frantic to get to his brother and his friend.

"I don't see what all the fuss is about, I just need to collect one more ingredient." Metatron walked over to where Castiel was trying to get to his feet again.

Metatron grabbed Castiel by the hair and yanked him up to his knees, pulling his head back to expose his throat and making sure he was facing the Winchesters while he did so, execution style. Dean growled and struggled more, and even Sam looked up at his friend, his eyes glazed in pain but attentive, horrified. Dean felt his stomach turn sickly, whatever was going on was not in their favor.

"This is for trying to get in my way and be the hero. I wasn't going to do this, but, well, you're really the only candidate and you do annoy me. Let's call it even, shall we?" Metatron said and sliced the angel blade across Castiel's throat.

"No! Cas!" Dean shouted to Sam's echo, struggling to move, but still held tight. He watched in dread as bright blue grace pooled in the wound and Cas gagged. Metatron pulled a small vial out of his pocket and held it in front of Cas' neck. Dean watched in confused horror as the grace slid into the bottle and Metatron capped it and closed the wound on Cas' neck before shoving him to the ground where the angel let out an uncharacteristic whimper.

"An angel's grace," Metatron told him. "Couldn't use mine, after all. I still need it. You, however, Castiel, have always been happier with the humans. Enjoy your new life." Then he disappeared.

"Son of a bitch!" Dean shouted as he fell to his knees, suddenly released from the hold Metatron had had over him and he quickly checked on Sam who seemed a little better than before. "Sammy?"

"I'm good," he said weakly, trying to raise himself with shaky arms.

"You are so not good," Dean told him firmly.

"Just get Cas," Sam wheezed and tried to crawl over toward their friend as well. Dean gave him a look, shaking his head, before half running, half falling over to Cas who was still lying on the ground where Metatron had thrown him.

"Cas?" Dean asked hesitantly, swallowing hard. He wasn't entirely sure what Metatron had done to him but he knew it wasn't good. There was some blood still seeping from the wounds in Cas' arm and side; not a good sign that they hadn't healed yet. The angel was shaking, and Dean hesitantly put a hand on his shoulder. "Cas, you okay, buddy?" he asked again, because he needed to be okay. Sam was as far from okay as he could be at the moment, Cas at least had to be okay. He wasn't sure if he could deal with both his brothers being in desperate need at the same time. He turned Cas over onto his back so he could see his face.

Castiel's expression was so pale and devastated that Dean's stomach dropped instantly upon seeing it. His hand was curled over the wound in his side, staring down at the blood seeping through his fingers. He wouldn't look at the elder Winchester.

"Cas, hey, look at me." Dean, trying to keep his voice from betraying his own fear, took Cas' face between his hands and turned his head so he would look at him. "What's wrong? What did he do to you?"

"He—he took my grace," Castiel whispered and finally met Dean's eyes with an expression the elder Winchester could read so many emotions in: devastation, horror, sadness and shame. "I'm human." And then his face crumpled and he chocked on several wracking sobs.

"Cas?" Sam asked in fear, wincing as he hauled himself over to his brother and friend, not quite sure what was going on, unable to process much of anything past the pain that was practically burning through his body right now.

Dean was so shocked for a moment, first at the news and then at seeing his angel—human?—whatever Cas was at the moment, cry. Actually cry. He had never seen him show emotion that physically before. He couldn't think of anything to say so he just gathered his friend against his chest like he would have Sam and held on. Cas shook, and a hand gripped Dean's jacket with everything he had.

"It will be alright," Dean whispered finally. "I promise we'll get through this."

Sam settled a large, shaking hand on Cas' back in support even when he looked like death warmed over himself. He folded over again with a bit back yelp and Dean turned around in fear to look at him, grabbing Sam's shirt and pulling him against his side.

"Sammy?" he asked.

"Dean, I…" Sam shook his head, barely able to get the words out. "Something is really wrong—the pain—agh!" He folded over again and Dean had to release Cas to support his brother, could not believe his world was falling down around him so quickly.

"Sam? Sammy!" Blood dripped out of Sam's mouth and Dean took his face between his hands as his eyes drooped. "No no no no, you're not doing this to me again. I got you, little brother; it will all be okay. Sammy?"

"Sam?" Cas asked, reaching past Dean to touch his friend's shoulder. Sam slumped against Dean as more rain started to fall, soaking them completely.

"We gottan get him inside, gotta figure out what's going on," Dean said frantically, grabbing Sam under his arms and hoisting him up as best he could while his head lolled against his chest. "Cas, I need your help," he pleaded.

Castiel forgot his own predicament for the moment and took the weight of Sam's legs, so heavy now he almost broke down sobbing again, but he didn't. He couldn't. He had to be strong for Dean right now even though he was so weak in every other way. Dean kicked the door open and they hauled Sam's limp body inside to the delight of Crowley who was still chained in the devil's trap.

"Back so soon? Just couldn't keep away, could you? What happened to Moose?" he demanded to know.

"Crowley, I am as far from in the mood as possible," Dean snarled as he and Cas lowered Sam onto a mostly intact pew.

"You think I am? I'm chained to a bloody chair with human blood in my veins. He doesn't look good, I hope he didn't give me something," the demon eyed the younger Winchester warily. "Is he dead?"

Dean ignored him, his jaw set as he knelt and wiped the blood from Sam's mouth and chin with his shirt. He took his jacket off and pillowed it under Sam's head.

"Cas, can you…" he trailed off abruptly, squeezing his eyes shut. "I'm sorry."

"It's alright," Castiel told him, though the thought, the sudden realization of his helplessness struck him so badly, he had to sit down near Sam's feet, burying his face in his hands. Dean watched him, not knowing what to do, or how to offer comfort to someone who had lost everything, and berating himself for his slip of the tongue.

"What's wrong with your feather duster? Can't he heal Jolly Green?" Crowley inquired, obviously enjoying the excitement.

"Shut up!" Dean snapped at him.

"I can tell he's not an angel anymore, you know. No halo, no heavenly light emanating from every pore—no grace, am I right?"

"I said, shut up!" Dean snarled, grabbing the demon knife that had been in Sam's belt and advancing on Crowley.

"All right, all right, just trying to make conversation, seeing as you look a little tense right now. You and Moose, you never appreciate the art of small talk." The demon sighed. "Look, your friend Cas isn't the only one with healing powers you know. I'm more than capable myself."

"Yeah, for a price," Dean replied wryly. "Already been down that road."

"Oh Squirrel, you know I like you, therefor, I would give you a slight discount," the King of Hell smiled, ratting his chains. "Just let me go on my merry way and I'll put your dear baby brother back good as new. No surcharge of human soul required."

"And how do I know you'll make good once I release you?" Dean demanded.

"You don't, but you don't really have any other options at the moment, do you?" Crowley was obviously enjoying this too much.

Dean gritted his teeth and cast a glance back at Sam, and Cas who wasn't going to be giving him any input for the moment. He turned back to the demon. "Fine," he snarled and went to retrieve the keys.

"Glad we can see eye to eye on something," Crowley said as Dean unlocked him. As the last chain fell away, he held the knife to the demon's throat and backed away slowly before he bent to break the devil's trap. Crowley stepped over it with the blade still pointing at him.

"Well, you're going to have to let me through or I can't play doctor to poor Sam," Crowley told Dean and with another long look, Dean stepped aside and trailed Crowley as he strode over to Sam.

"Ah, Moose, always getting yourself into scrapes that big brother has to bail you out of," he said and put a hand against Sam's chest. A second later, Sam's eyes flew open with a gasp. He gagged and Dean shoved Crowley aside to grab his brother's flailing arms. Cas was on his feet, bending over them, concern in his eyes.

"Sammy? How are you?" Dean asked hesitantly as Sam clutched his chest and just breathed, seeming unable to do anything else. He finally looked over at his brother.

"I-I feel good," he said slowly as if testing the thought out, a frown between his brows. "I actually feel really good. What happened?"

"Well, unfortunately, you have Crowley to thank for that—and he's gone, dammit," Dean cursed at the demon-free room but stood up and offered Sam a hand. "We need to get out of here. We might still have time to stop Metatron from whatever he's doing."

"We're too late."

The brothers turned to Cas who was staring out one of the windows.

"What the hell?" Dean asked before he and Sam and Cas were hurrying out of the church to stare up at the sky, and what looked like a hundred meteors falling to earth.

"The angels," Cas said brokenly. "They're falling."

"That wasn't supposed to happen," Sam breathed.

"No," Cas said and slumped, nearly to the ground.

"Hey, hey, hey," Dean said, catching him. "Easy, just wait until we get back to the bunker. We need to get out of the open, who knows what else he might have triggered."

He practically dragged Cas to the Impala, making sure Sam was on his feet as well and shoved the former angel into the backseat before running around to the driver's side. He kicked something that clattered on the ground and when he looked down he saw it was an angel blade. Cas' angel blade. Swallowing hard, Dean bent to pick it up and tucked it into his own jacket for safekeeping.

He revved the engine and spun out of the churchyard, barreling down the road as they watched the angels fall all around them. His phone rang suddenly and he snatched it up.

"What?"

"Dean!" Kevin's voice came frantically from the other end. "It's not a trial to close heaven, it's a spell to cast the angels out!"

"Yeah, we know," Dean snapped. "It's too late. It's already happening. Listen, just lay low for a while and we'll get you back to the bunker as soon as we figure out what's going on. Now gotta go!" He hung up, hating to be so short with the kid, but too tense right now for anything else.

"It's all my fault," Cas said wretchedly from the backseat. "I should have known he was up to no good, I should have stopped him when I had the chance."

"Cas, don't put this on yourself, you've got enough on your plate," Dean said.

"What happened before, I don't really remember?" Sam asked quietly. "Cas, are you alright?"

"I'm—" he started to say, but Dean cut him off.

"He's human, Sam. Metatron ripped his grace out." He winced at how Cas flinched at his blunt words, but continued. "We'll figure this out. At least you seem to be back together again. No fever?"

"No, I feel great, just…I know it's not really the time, but I'm starving," Sam replied sheepishly.

"We'll get some food as soon as we get back," Dean promised him, then concentrated on the road ahead, his heart sinking more and more at every angel he watched fall down in a blazing light.


	10. Chapter 10

Castiel huddled in the backseatof the Impala, hurting, shocked, and too many other emotions to count. He had never felt these emotions before, it was—horrifying. How did humans even do this? No wonder Sam and Dean had so many issues all the time. His wounds ached, more than they had when he got them as an angel, and there was no quick healing, it was going to be weeks before they healed properly, and scarred, and they were still bleeding, making his body weaker as they did. The tears had shocked him the most though, and from Dean's expression, they had shocked him as well. All the building emotions he had felt just made them come out and he couldn't stop them. It was terrible and didn't seem to make anything better. He was ashamed that a demon had had to cure his friend because he couldn't; he would probably never forget that. But it looked like he was going to be human for a while now, likely indefinitely, because if Metatron had used his grace in a spell then it was probably gone for good. The thought made more tears slide down his cheeks. He supposed it was all he deserved after everything he had done, had ruined. It was bitterly, tragically, poetic in a way, he supposed wryly. He had rebelled, given everything, for humanity, and it made sense that his ultimate punishment would be that he too would become human.

And not only did he think of his own plight but that of all his brothers and sisters who would be cast into a world most of them knew nothing about, having to fend for themselves with no guidance. His heart ached for them.

He was glad when they got back to the bunker. It was a safe place, and a comforting one. Castiel had never known what 'home' really meant. He loved Heaven, obviously, but he had learned from the Winchesters that home wasn't really a place, it was where your family was. But even then, he had never felt more welcome anywhere than he had in the bunker with the Winchesters, his new family, and now likely his permanent one since he would never go back to heaven again, probably not even when he died now. But he couldn't allow himself to think of those things. It was too much for his newly human soul to bear.

The angels had stopped falling by the time they got back but that didn't make any of them feel any better. Dean parked the Impala and got out along with Sam and then Castiel finally managed to get his body into gear and followed them into the bunker. Dean eyed him for a moment but seemed uncertain what to say so they just went into the bunker and closed the door tight behind them.

Sam went straight to the kitchen and Dean poured him a bowl of cereal to eat first while he grilled some ham and cheese sandwiches on the stove. Castiel sat across from the younger Winchester at the table and slumped. Sam continued to shovel food into his mouth for a few seconds, obviously glad to be able to eat without feeling ill, before he noticed Castiel slumping further and further toward the table and then registered the blood on his trench coat.

"Cas, hey, are you all right?" he asked.

Dean turned around just in time to see Sam reach over the table and grab the front of the former angel's coat before he fell off the chair. Castiel heard Dean's footsteps and felt his arm across his back, holding him steady.

"Damn, Cas, I forgot you were hurt, why didn't you tell me?" he asked in worried exasperation.

"Sorry," Castiel replied, feeling like a terrible burden. After everything, that was all he had ended up being to the Winchesters.

"Don't apologize, we've all got things to get used to," Dean told him. "Sammy, can you manage here? I'm going to go get him patched up."

"Yeah of course," Sam replied, worry and sympathy in his eyes.

"I—I can do it," Castiel protested, though he wasn't even sure if he could stand up let alone bandage his wounds. The thought made him want to cry again—he was beginning to really hate that prickling sensation behind his eyes. He was sure Dean would call him a girl if he knew what was going on with his emotions. They were just so confusing, all this new, heightened feeling roiling inside of him.

"No way," Dean informed him, getting a hand under his good arm and lifting him up. "Come on, buddy."

Castiel stumbled along with his friend toward the bathroom and Dean settled him on the toilet before he rummaged under the sink.

"Okay, let's get your coat and shirt off," Dean said and helped slide the bloodied fabric away, peeling it back to his skin which showed not only the two cuts but countless bruises that he never would have thought of as an angel, but which hurt more than he wanted to admit. Dean piled the bloody clothes in a corner and noticed Castiel looking at his coat with a sad glance.

"Don't worry, we can probably clean it," he said.

"Don't bother," Castiel said, his throat hurting so bad it was hard to talk. He knew he couldn't wear the coat again. It would remind him too much of being an angel. It was ridiculous to be so attached to something like that. So very…human. But he couldn't help it. It had been with him for a very long time and he had grown fond of it.

"These are pretty deep," Dean told him grimly as he inspected the wounds. He gathered a swatch of gauze and some peroxide. "They'll need stitches. This is gonna sting, so hold on. I'm really sorry you have to deal with this on your first day human. It's gonna suck." He positioned Castiel's arm over the sink.

Castiel braced himself, but he wasn't entirely prepared for how much the peroxide hurt on his open wounds. He screamed and there were his eyes pricking with stupid tears again. Dean didn't stop working, even when Castiel grabbed a fistful of his shirt just for something to hold onto, but the hunter's jaw was tight and his throat bobbed as if it was hurting with emotion too.

The wound in his side wasn't quite as deep but just as painful to wash out. Dean seemed to breathe a sigh of relief when he was finished with that task, but he turned to wash his hands and grab a small kit from the first aid box. Castiel knew it was sutures and he didn't like the thought of it. He had watched Sam and Dean sew each other up countless times, he had even done it himself on occasion, and yes, Dean had sewed up the last wound he'd gotten, but he hadn't been awake for it, nor had he been human.

"Okay, here we go," Dean warned him as he threaded the needle.

Castiel gritted his teeth against the pain and the feeling of the needle being forced through his skin. He tried to watch at first but found himself swallowing bile and instead turned to look up at Dean's face. That only made him sicker, however, seeing the pain and regret on his friend's countenance.

"Dean," he said quietly, his voice a little strangled from the pain. "Don't feel sorry for me."

Dean let out a long breath before he replied, not looking up from his task. "Cas, please. If you think I pity you, that's not it, I'm just…"

"This isn't about pity," Castiel replied a little sharply. "It's not about it being my fault or yours or Metatron's, it's about the fact that I deserve this. It's a punishment that I have to take."

"Cas, no," Dean shook his head tiredly.

"Dean, listen," Castiel pleaded, his throat hurting again. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "I thought that, maybe, my time in Purgatory was penance enough, but apparently it wasn't, and I see that now. After everything I did, how I deceived you and Sam again, even after I swore I wouldn't, this is my punishment, and I must take it without remorse."

"Cas, that wasn't you," Dean growled. "Naomi forced you to lie to us, you didn't…"

"But I did, Dean, please, can't you ever just listen when I try to apologize?" Castiel cried, finally looking up to meet his friend's eyes. Dean's mouth was pinched with pain, stopping his administration for the moment. Finally he looked down.

"Sorry, Cas, I know I'm bad about that, but, come on, man, you don't need to apologize anymore."

"I wanted to get it off my chest," Castiel told him firmly. "But please…I don't want you to feel sorry for me, that's all. And if you don't want me around I understand."

"Oh, that's it," Dean growled, tying off the last suture more roughly than he needed to and crouched down so he was at eye level with Castiel. "Look at me," he demanded, then, when Castiel wouldn't, he took his face between his hands and turned it to face him. "Look at me, Cas. You have got to stop beating yourself up, man. After everything you did for us do you really think you owe us anything? When are you going to realize that we don't care about your mistakes because, news flash, that's what being human is all about, so I guess you're going to have to get used to it. Dammit, Cas," he shook his head, emotion suddenly taking over, and Castiel saw a tear slip out of Dean's eye as he looked up to the ceiling as if he could find the words he needed there, his hand trembling against Castiel's jaw. "You're my brother, you're family. And I don't give a crap whether you're an angel or a human; nothing is gonna change how Sam and I feel about you. So don't think for a minute that we're going to drop you just because you lost your grace. We stick together because that's what family does."

Castiel's breath shuddered in his chest and more tears spilled from his eyes and slipped between Dean's fingers. One of Dean's hands went to the back of his neck and squeezed comfortingly with a small smile and a nod before he stood back up silently and put some bandages over Castiel's wounds. Then he packed up all the stuff again and put a hand on Castiel's uninjured shoulder.

"Let's get you some clean clothes, I'm sure I have something you can borrow."

"Dean," Cas said quietly. "I—I think I'm cold."

Those words seemed to break Dean for some reason and he turned away quickly, scrubbing at his eyes violently. "I'll get you something Cas," he whispered before he hurried from the room.

~~~~~~~

A few minutes later Cas was dressed in flannel pajama pants and a long sleeved shirt that was too big so the sleeves slipped over his hands. He sat at the kitchen table with Sam again and ate one of the sandwiches Dean made. Dean watched as the former angel slowly chewed the food as if experiencing it for the first time.

"It tastes…different," he said. "Better, less complicated."

"Well, that's something, I guess," Dean replied.

"Is there anything we can do, Cas?" Sam asked gently, those sympathetic eyes hard at work. Dean could tell his brother was feeling just as helpless as he was. What could they possibly do? Cas had lost everything, because of them, and then went so far as to say it was justified as a punishment for his wrongdoings. That made Dean sick. He knew he self-flagellated, but he had a brother willing to kill himself so he could be 'pure' and telling him that he had only ever let him down, and an angel (ex-angel, he reminded himself) feeling it was only fair that he had had everything he cared about torn from him. Dean wondered if he would ever figure out why everyone around him suffered so much; why it seemed like he was poison to everyone he touched. With that parting though, they made an awesome trio, he thought wryly.

Sam finally seemed to slow his eating down and started to look like he was about ready to fall asleep. Dean pushed his dark thoughts aside and turned to his newly healed brother.

"Why don't you run off to take a shower, Sammy," he said. "Then it's bed time. For all of us." Like he could sleep.

"Yeah, I need one," Sam said, too tired to argue. Crowley's mojo had cleaned him up so he didn't have any wounds or injuries to speak of but he was still wearing filthy clothing that needed to be washed or burned. Dean watched as he left the room, finding it hard to let his little brother leave his sight, but he was fine now, he reminded himself. He was fine. He turned back to Cas instead, watching him stare at his empty plate.

"Do you want anything else?" he asked.

Cas shook his head. "No, I think…I think I'm tired."

"I bet," Dean said and stood up as Cas tried to get out of the chair, but ended up leaning against the table mostly, wincing as his wounds hurt.

"It really hurts," he commented ruefully. "I feel like I've had a whole mountain dropped on me."

"How about some Tylenol," Dean suggested and went to grab the bottle, shaking out a couple pills and handing them to Cas. "Don't chew them."

Cas swallowed the pills and Dean took his unwounded arm and helped him to his room, realizing he would have to use it every night now, not just when he was injured and needed a place to crash as he healed. Dean looked around at the mostly bare room and swallowed hard.

"We'll um, we'll get you some clothes and toiletries and stuff," he said, realizing how big a job it would be showing Cas the ways of being human.

"I suppose it will be necessary now," Cas replied dejectedly. He frowned as he sat down carefully on the edge of the bed. "I feel a bit funny."

Dean watched as he gestured to the area of his bladder and chuckled despite himself. "I think you have to pee, Cas. I hope you know how to handle that?"

"I suppose I can manage," Cas replied and got up to head to the bathroom.

"Wash your hands," Dean called after him. "You're not immune to germs anymore." I'm a freaking nursemaid, he thought ruefully. For some reason having Cas in this state just reverted him back to when he took care of Sammy as a kid. He supposed in many ways Cas was like a child now and would need looking after until he got the hang of things.

He took the time while Cas was gone to grab several more blankets from a supply closet and when he got back to the room, he watched Cas trying to pull down the quilt, but having trouble with only one uninjured arm.

"Let me do that," Dean told him, stepping forward.

"Dean, please, I can do it, I don't want you to have to do everything for me."

"Just…let me and Sam help you until you get used to this—at least until your wounds heal, okay?" Dean almost pleaded as he set the extra blankets at the foot of the bed and pulled down the quilt and sheets. "Get in," he nodded.

Cas carefully slid between the sheets, wincing as he tried to find a comfortable position and finally settled on his uninjured side, clutching a pillow under his cheek. Dean pulled the covers over him and gestured to the lamp.

"You want it off?" he asked.

Cas hesitated, but finally nodded.

"Just let me know if you need anything, don't hesitate to ask," Dean told him, feeling slightly awkward but hoping Cas would come to him if he needed help because the last thing he wanted was for his friend to get hurt again and he was just as stubborn as the Winchester brothers.

"I'll be fine, Dean, you should go look after Sam. I think I would just like to be alone for a while."

"Okay," Dean nodded, though he really didn't want to leave him alone right now, he did really want to see Sam and knew Cas would have a lot to think about and probably needed some time alone to do so. He sighed and flicked the light off as he left the room. "Goodnight, Cas."

"Goodnight, Dean."

Dean left his door cracked and then went down the hall a little bit to Sam's room. The door was open slightly and he knocked as he entered. Sam was pulling on a clean t-shirt after his shower, looking much refreshed. He looked up as his brother came in and gave a small smile. "Hey Dean."

"Hey," Dean replied.

"How's Cas?"

Dean sighed and strode forward to slump down on the edge of the bed. "I don't know. He says he's oaky with it, like it's some sort of punishment that he deserves for everything he's done—all that penance crap he tried to convince me of back in Purgatory—but he's not okay, Sam, I can tell."

"Of course he's not," Sam replied, sitting next to his brother. "I mean, being human sucks, Dean. And it all happened so fast that he didn't have any time to adjust. Sure, he was kind of human before, during the apocalypse but it wasn't anything like this. We're just going to have to help him as well as we can to learn how to be human."

"I just don't see this going well," Dean said, slumping forward. "I mean, come on, Sam, what did we really accomplish with this whole damn thing? You almost died, Cas is human, Hell is still open for business and, oh yeah, the angels all took synchronized backflips out the pearly gates."

"I know it's bad, Dean, but we've dealt with worse and survived before, we can do it again. And…look, man," he sighed before he continued. "I'm sorry for putting you through that. I didn't really want to die, you know, I just…I don't know, Dean. All my life it just seems like I've been the odd one out, the rebel of the family."

"Oh you rebel you, going off to collage to be a lawyer," Dean couldn't help but say, a half-hearted smirk playing over his lips as Sam shot him a bitchface.

"You know what I mean. And then there was the demon blood and letting Lucifer out, and I thought this was a way to rid myself of those things and do something good for once. I didn't think it would go so far, and I didn't ever mean for you to go through what you did. I'm sorry."

"You and Cas," Dean replied tiredly, shaking his head. "I just don't understand why you never seemed to realize that you're my brother, forever, whether you like it or not, and no matter what you do, I could never stop loving you; even though you made mistakes and broke the world, you're still my little brother and I can't help but see that snot-nosed kid I used to cook for and tuck in at night." He smiled ruefully. "I guess it's kind of been like that recently, huh?"

Sam snorted with a smile and looked down at his hands in his lap. "I know, and Dean, I just want to thank you. I mean, normal people would have dropped me like a hot rock by now, but you always forgave me, and I'm sorry if sometimes I had trouble doing the same."

"Alright," Dean told him, shaking his head and clearing his throat. "That's enough of that, it's starting to get a little uncomfortable in here." He smiled as he listened to Sam's snorting laugh. He clapped a hand on Sam's shoulder and then to the side of his neck as he went to stand up. "Get some sleep. We're going to need to go into town tomorrow and get some stuff for Cas, and I want you to stop by the clinic and get a scan done."

"Oh, come on, Dean, I'm fine!" Sam protested.

"No arguments," Dean told him firmly. "Just want to make sure. Who knows what that stuff was actually doing to you. Besides you had Crowley's mojo up in you, it might have left some demonic residue behind."

"Oh, gross, dude, now I want to take another shower," Sam said in distaste, scrunching his nose. "Fine, but only because I know you won't let me alone until I do."

"Good."

"But Dean, seriously, thanks for talking me down in there. I don't know if I could have stopped if you hadn't been there."

"That's my job," Dean replied fondly and pushed Sam's shoulder until he huffed and lay down. "Now bed." He patted his knee and left the room as Sam settled with a deep sigh on the bed and was out almost instantly. Dean swallowed a lump in his throat, but one of relief this time. It had been too long since his little brother had gotten a good night of sleep.

He went to take a shower himself but as he slid his jacket off, something thudded against the floor and he bent down, remembering he had tucked Cas' angel blade into it. He took out the shiny short sword and settled it gently on the sink before he turned back to his shower. When he was clean, he took up the angel blade and went back to Cas' room, hesitating at the door but deciding to go in anyway.

He found Cas asleep, curled up under several blankets and snoring slightly. He wanted to laugh, but he also felt like his heart was being torn out because Cas looked so human—was human—and nothing was going to change that now. But he also knew that even human, Cas was not worthless and Dean and Sam were going to do everything in their power to make sure he knew that.

Dean stepped over to the side of the bed and settled the angel blade on the nightstand. This was a start.

He took a deep breath, and left the room, about to go back to his own, but knew he wasn't going to sleep that night. Instead, he went back to Sam's room and grabbed his chair from the desk, sitting on it and propping his feet up on the bed. He just sat there for a long time and listened to Sam's even breathing, not interrupted by coughs, his movements not sporadic from fever, and his face smooth and relaxed, not creased by lines of pain. That was all Dean needed to know for the moment.

Sam stirred and rolled over onto his side, his eyes blinking open in the dark, startling slightly as he saw the figure sitting by his bed. "Dean?"

"Go back to sleep, Sammy," Dean replied quietly.

Sam sat up and grabbed a blanket off the foot of his bed and Dean allowed him to put it over him, then the younger Winchester curled up closer to his brother and rested a hand on his knee. "Goodnight, Dean," he said.

Dean smiled in the darkness and after long last closed his eyes. The world might be falling down but as long as he and Sam and Cas had each other, he knew they would always find a way to get through. That was what family was for, wasn't it?


End file.
